


First Watch

by R2sMuse



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Implied Past Abuse, Just the Romance Ma'am, Kurt's POV, Slow Burn, The good ending, brief appearance of Vasco/De Sardet, main plot spoilers, some post-game speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R2sMuse/pseuds/R2sMuse
Summary: When Kurt followed her excellency Fiona De Sardet to the island of Teer Fradee, he had no idea that one of the dangers he would safeguard against would be her troubling new dreams. Night after night, he did his best to watch over her and return her to her rest, but before long, these late-night meetings had turned into something else—he just wasn’t sure what. As divided loyalties threaten to tear the island apart and their complicated relationship with it, Kurt finally needs to figure out where he stands and whether a mercenary can afford loyalties of his own.A canon-compliant romance told from Kurt’s perspective, with some main plot spoilers.
Relationships: Kurt/De Sardet (GreedFall)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 107





	1. First Watch

Teer Fradee at night was a menagerie of outlandish sounds that would unnerve anyone. Kurt couldn’t help but flinch as his ears cataloged yet another unfamiliar sound from the foreign wilderness outside New Serene. This time it was a sound that began like a horse’s whinny and ended like the cry of a screech owl. What it could be, he had no notion and only hoped it kept its distance. After just a week on the island, his instincts remained on edge at every new sight or sound that might present a threat in this hostile new environment. It was the reason he had volunteered to take first watch while the rest of the camp slept.

Her Excellency, Fiona De Sardet, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants, had opted against bringing a guard or traveling by coach to the nearby city of Hikmet, claiming she could see more of the island that was her new home by traveling on her own. A choice only a green blood would make in such an unknown landscape.

The corner of his mouth twitched up at the thought. After 15 years as her master of arms, he still couldn’t prevent her making foolhardy decisions, but at least he could watch her back. Or the crown of her dark hair, in this case, which was all he had been able to see of her once she had burrowed under her blankets to sleep tonight.

He glanced over his shoulder at her pallet beside the distant fire but froze when he couldn’t see even that among her abandoned blankets. His eyes darted around the camp, ears straining to catch more of the alien sounds of the forest, alert for danger. The two lumps on the other side of the fire that were the sea captain Vasco and the islander Siora slept on, oblivious.

A rustle to his left had his blade halfway from its scabbard when De Sardet herself dropped down beside him on the log where he perched.

“Green Blood!” he hissed. “You don’t sneak up on a man who might well take your head off in a blink of an eye!”

She grinned unrepentantly, a sparkle in her deep blue eyes that appeared almost black in the low light. “I would’ve thought you’d be proud that I could take you unawares.”

He grunted. He was, but there was no need to encourage her. “You should be sleeping.”

She wrapped her arms around her knees. “I can’t. I’ve been trying for hours now, but to no avail. So instead of watching those broad shoulders of yours start at every sound, I thought I would join you.”

He shifted uncomfortably at the thought of her scrutiny. “Not at every sound. But this place. I’ll admit, it unsettles me. I can’t recognize from what corner danger might come.”

“I understand.” She gazed out into the darkness, a wrinkle forming between her arching brows. “There’s something about this place. So different, and yet somehow familiar, which makes no sense.” She shook her head. “Must be why it has invaded my dreams.”

He looked at her inquiringly.

“Ever since we stepped foot off Vasco’s ship,” she said, “I dream of creatures like that one who attacked us in the Serene port. Every night, I run, through a twisted forest, but can’t escape. I never escape.” Her eyes became unfocused recalling the nightmares. “It always feels like the forest itself is menacing me. Like we’re not wanted here.” She shuddered and looked up at him, shadows lingering in her eyes, but she attempted a brave smile. “It has made sleep elusive.”

He frowned. “Every night, you say?” he asked her, to which she nodded. Now that he looked for it, he noted the circles under her eyes, forming dark hollows in her otherwise soft russet brown skin. “Is that why I keep hearing late night pacing upstairs in that creaky old house you’ve let for us in New Serene?”

“It’s not creaky,” she protested, sidestepping his concern. “The house is still settling. Like us.”

“Like us.” He snorted. “I wonder if we’ll ever feel settled on this island.”

She raised her chin as she faced the unknowable shadows of the forest. “We will. I know we will.” After a moment, she glanced at him. “You’re not regretting coming with me now, Kurt?”

“Never. I follow wherever you lead. Even if that means down a lonely road with no guard.” He gave the camp a sour look.

She turned back to her study of the surrounding darkness, hesitating. “Because I pay you,” she murmured at last.

“Because _the_ _Prince_ pays me to watch over you and Constantin,” he corrected. The fact that the Coin Guard’s loyalty could be bought for gold had never really bothered Kurt. It felt cleaner than the tangled loyalties that resulted from the family ties or religious obligations of other men. He knew where his duty lay and never needed to question it. This gave him clarity of purpose when it mattered most, which was protecting his young proteges.

“The other day, when I asked you if you were ever lonely,” she said, “you suggested that we simply hadn’t had the time to become friends over all the years we’ve been together.”

She paused. Her tone implied a question, but Kurt was never one to fear the silence for its own sake. He had been a soldier for too long. So he waited for her real question and watched her struggle with her next words.

“But, in becoming friends, doesn’t that make it seem like . . . like we’ve paid you to-to like me?” she said in a stuttering rush.

“No,” he said immediately, “because I don’t like you.”

Her head spun toward him, her eyes wide and—interestingly—hurt from his jest. He smiled broadly at her, trying to let her see all the genuine affection he held for her, and shook his head. “Such a green blood.” He chucked her under the chin, making her blush, and then got to his feet. “Come, let’s spar and give your weary body a stronger reason to sleep.”

She somewhat reluctantly followed as he led them a distance away from camp that was within sight but far enough for the clash of blades not to wake anyone. An hour and several unavoidable bruises later, she was making mistakes and weaving on her feet, so he sent her back to bed. Her eyes closed as soon as she hit her pallet, and he watched the wrinkle between her brows smooth as she fell into a deep, hopefully dreamless sleep.

“Sleep well, my friend,” he murmured before waking Vasco for the next watch and turning in himself.

ooXXoo

The next day, they reached the city of Hikmet and the relative safety of the residence designated for the visiting Legate of the Congregation. The new city’s smells and sounds were much like any urban center Kurt had experienced, and even the minor skirmish they’d encountered with street brigands was something familiar enough. De Sardet acquitted herself admirably, assuaging some of Kurt’s concerns. But that night, as he settled into his fourposter bed in the new residence, arms folded behind his head, he heard the distinct creak of footsteps above his head.

The house in Hikmet was even worse than the one in New Serene, and every floorboard seemed to complain when trod upon. Since the only occupied room on the second floor was De Sardet’s, he concluded that it must be hers. He tracked the creaking but the sounds soon died down. After a period of silence, he assumed she must have retired, so he let his mind drift off to sleep.

When his eyes snapped open again, he wasn’t quite sure what had awoken him. The room was still dark and the volume of the city had died down into a late night murmur.

Then he heard it again, the creaking steps above his head. The sound continued, forming a rhythm that even his tired mind could follow until it had fully drawn him from sleep. His gaze trained on the ceiling where, now that he had the rhythm, he could almost picture De Sardet pacing back and forth. It was something she would do when troubled, a sort of three-point triangle of determined trudging.

Had the bad dreams returned? Or was it something else? The creaking continued as his muzzy thoughts debated what to do, but then the noise shifted. The creaking quieted and retreated. He waited for the absolute silence that would indicate her return to bed, but then a creak sounded upon the stair. He held his breath, listening intently to her next move. Was she headed to the sitting room? Was she leaving the house? His pulse sped up at the thought of her prowling the nighttime streets of Hikmet alone.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was up out of bed, pulling on a shirt and padding barefoot down the short hall past the guest rooms where their other companions still slumbered. He slowed at the entry into the sitting room where the creaking had stopped and found the source silhouetted before the banked fire, pacing. De Sardet rounded a turn in her pattern and gasped as she caught sight of him.

“Kurt!” She pressed a steadying hand to her heart. “I didn’t think anyone else was awake.”

“No one else is.” He stepped all the way into the room. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, no.” Her eyes darted over him, like they didn’t know where to settle, and he felt a compulsion to fasten the buttons on his shirt. “I was just trying to find something to occupy my mind for bit.” She grasped together the lapels of her dark blue dressing gown in one hand and her bare toes peeked out from the hem. Her relative state of undress, on the other hand, reassured him that she wasn’t planning on going out. At least not yet.

He frowned. “Dreams again?”

“Yes.” She sank into the ornately gilded pillows gracing an armed chair next to the fire and rubbed her hands over her face. “For how foreboding the dreams are, I know they’re just the result of my overactive imagination processing all the new things we’ve seen on Teer Fradee.”

“Could be.” He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the mantel. “Between you and Constantin, you’ve always been the creative one.”

He had succeeded in making her smile at that one. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said gamely. “Constantin was the one who decided that varicolored codpieces were going to be all the rage that one year.” 

Kurt chuckled. “True. But you were the one who found a way for him channel that artistic flare into something that didn’t chafe as much.”

She snorted. “Yes, at least his walking stick obsession was apparently far more comfortable.” She inclined her head toward him. “Not that you ever fell prey to his flirtation with men’s fashion.”

“No, indeed. Being an outsider at court definitely had its advantages.”

She narrowed her eyes, giving him a measuring look. “Would you really characterize it that way?”

“Without a doubt. There is no amount of coin or status that would coerce me to wear a gold fringed codpiece.”

She burst out in a sudden trill of delighted laughter and belatedly pressed a hand to her mouth to dampen the sound. “The image you conjure, Kurt, now makes me wish we could have!” Her amusement trailed off and her brow furrowed thoughtfully. “But what I actually meant was—did you really feel like an outsider?”

“Of course,” he replied to her puzzling question. How else would he feel? “I’m a coin guard.”

“I always felt like you were one of us.” She wet her lower lip. “Family.”

He blinked at her. He definitely wasn’t awake enough to navigate this conversation. “Ah, my naive Green Blood,” he said as gently as could. “You know that I would give my life to keep you safe from harm. But you sit so far above me, fair lady, that the stars keep you company.”

Her brows rose as she considered his response for a moment. Finally, she said, “That does sound lonely. Stars are really a dead bore.”

He looked down and couldn’t help but smile at her cleverness. She really was extraordinary. When he looked back up at her, she was also smiling.

She tilted her head. “So lucky for me, you’re the one keeping me company now.” 

“For as long as you need, sweet lady,” he said fervently, but then wondered what he was thinking being so familiar. He coughed gruffly. “Although you really should get back to sleep.”

“I’ve tried. Nothing seems to work.” She drummed her fingers on her knee. “Except, maybe we could spar again?” she added hopefully.

He shook his head. “Sparring might be a little hard with the limited space we have in the residence.”

“Of course, you’re right.” She pursed her full lips, the lower one jutting out into an adorable pout. “Do you mind just talking to me a little more? Please?”

How could he say no to that? He straightened from his slouch against the mantel and switched to the chair that was counterpart to hers before the fire. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “What would you like to talk about?”

She pulled her feet up onto the overstuffed chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Tell me about your family? Were your parents in the guard as well?”

“Yes, and to be truthful, I never really knew them.” He stroked his chin, deciding how much she would want to hear. He avoided talking about himself. The past was past and he preferred it that way. But, strangely enough, he wanted to share with her. “I was entrusted to a wet nurse. A prostitute that followed the troops.” As he spoke about the one person who had shown him any kind of affection growing up, De Sardet listened compassionately and he could detect no change in her attitude as she learned of his lowly beginnings. She only wanted to know more. About his history. About his training.

She had sunk down into the cushioned chair, and after a time, pillowed her head on her hands against one of the arms, feet tucked up underneath her. He then started to tell her stories from his youth as a young enlisted soldier. Finally, when her eyes started to droop, he lowered the volume and range of his voice, lulling her further into sleep. Once she was out, he fell silent but watched her for a few more minutes. She looked frightfully young with her face relaxed in repose, her long hair concealed under a tightly wrapped scarf, and the dark fringe of her lashes partially concealing the bruised circles beneath her eyes. Her full lips were curved into a contented smile that made his heart swell.

When he was sure she was deeply asleep, he carefully gathered her in his arms. She stirred slightly but only sighed and snuggled her head against his shoulder. Once she stilled, he creaked back up the stairs to return her to her bed.

ooXXoo

Kurt’s eyes flew open, staring at the ceiling of his darkened bedroom. His heart pounded in that way that warned something was not right. His ears strained for indication of what had awoken him and then he heard the creaking again. He smiled in the darkness, his pulse calming, as the tromp of pacing emerged from the stillness.

Their adventures of the past few days around Hikmet, untangling mysteries of missing caravans and scientists, had them all sleeping like the dead as soon as they turned in. Even his Green Blood. He had hoped that her subconscious mind was slowly becoming accustomed to the strangeness of Teer Fradee and would finally allow her to sleep. But there she was, Fiona De Sardet, Legate of the Congregation, pacing yet again.

The rhythm of it started to lull him back to his own sleep, until the pattern suddenly changed. His eyes snapped open again as the creaking started and stopped and then it was tromping down the distant stairs again. Where was she going this time? He sat up, listening more intently.

Soft footfalls reached the ground floor, harder to hear until they padded on the tiles in the hallway outside his door. Then nothing as the sound suddenly stopped.

Puzzled he slipped out of bed and yanked the door open, startling De Sardet, who yelped in surprise, her hand poised midair to knock.

He swore. “Green Blood, what are you doing?”

She gasped, pressing a hand over her heart in shock. “Kurt!”

He glanced up and down the hallway at the other closed doors that concealed their sleeping companions. “Hush.” He pulled her into his room by the arm and shut the door. When he released her, she leaned her back against the door.

“I-I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said breathlessly.

“Are you sure about that?”

She opened her mouth but then closed it, slumping back against the door. “Well, no, I suppose I was coming to see you, but I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The corner of his mouth hitched up. “You didn’t.”

She pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “Well, then, I didn’t mean to scare myself.” She self-consciously tucked a stray curl of hair behind one ear, as it tried to escape from the scarf around her head. Her eyes darted to his bare chest and then away. “I wasn’t sure if I should bother you.”

“You’re never a bother, Green Blood. Dreams are back?”

She nodded wordlessly, her eyes bleak.

He turned aside to a chair where he had dumped his clothing and shrugged into a shirt. “Come with me,” he ordered, leading her out into the hall and into the sitting room once more.

The oil lamps had not been fully turned down and so he could clearly see her navy silk dressing gown. The blue was so dark it swallowed the light, veiling what lie beneath in mystery, even while the tight yellow sash revealed the gentle sweep of her waist and curved hips that were usually obscured by coat and armor.

She curled up again in the chair before the fire while he settled in the chair opposite. “You’re so patient with me, Kurt.”

“It’s a patience I’ve needed to cultivate over the years,” he deadpanned, raising a stern eyebrow.

“Tell me another story,” she murmured.

“I’m not much of a story teller.”

“Then tell me something true. Tell me about a memory. You enlisted at such a young age. Do you have any pleasant memories of your childhood?”

“Some, yes . . . Why?” He scratched the back of his neck. “What kind of memories were you thinking about?”

“Tell me about a happy memory of yours. A memory that makes you smile.”

He thought for a moment, frowning as he realized he remembered very little of his earliest years. Mostly just impressions. But were they happy? “I have a few sweet but blurry memories of my wet nurse. I remember her smell of crushed flowers and herbs.” He glanced up at De Sardet, her fathomless eyes met his, waiting for more. He bit his lower lip. “But when I try to remember something happy, it’s the memory of a later event that stirs.”

“Tell me,” she said with a small smile.

“The memory of a day when we skipped training to go for a swim in the river.” The sitting room was replaced in his mind’s eye by a crisp gray sky. A narrow rocky stream burbling into a pool. A small group of young recruits, lips blue and teeth chattering, daring each other deeper into the water. “We waded for a good part of the afternoon into a marvelous little, cold stream running over a bed of round pebbles.” His eyes refocused onto her face, her expression difficult to interpret. “Isn’t it odd that that appears to be my happiest memory?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head slightly. “It was a moment of freedom. You were carefree. I guess that is why you remember it.”

Could that be it? After a life spent in service and duty, following others’ orders even to this day, that afternoon still stood out for him. Although they had broken the rules and had been soundly admonished upon their return, he remembered feeling exhilarated instead of guilty, even when scrubbing out the latrines in punishment. “You’re right,” he said finally. “Since that day, there hasn’t been much room in my life for being carefree.”

“Tell me another memory.” She dropped her eyes and started to fidget with the gilt edge of the pillow on which she lounged. “Tell me . . . Tell me about your first love?” She still hadn’t looked up, and he wondered at her motivation for asking.

He cleared his throat. What could he possibly tell her? His first tumble had been short and forgettable. So were most of the subsequent. His first love? That wasn’t really a word he had ever used. He shrugged. “There isn’t much to tell. It was pretty soppy, like most childhood flings.” She finally looked up at him, searching his face, knowing he had basically dodged her question. “You know what I mean,” he added gruffly. “I think I remember you making eyes at some dandy, not so long ago.”

Her eyes widened at his deflection, and he waited for her retort in kind, continuing their age-old banter about demanding his full-time attention. But this time her gaze dropped again. “Oh Kurt, how can you be so naive?” When her gaze returned to his there was a sort of flickering challenge in their depths. “I was only looking at that young idiot to make you jealous.” Her tone was light and an outside observer would assume this was a continuation of her joking hero worship from childhood. But here, in the dark of the sitting room, just the two of them, unarmored and alone, it was suddenly different. Suddenly dangerous.

“Please, you were but a child,” he said, imbuing his words with as much disdain and disapproval as he could. “You weren’t into old geezers like me back then!”

The hopeful light in her eyes immediately flickered out, as he’d intended, and she looked away. “Don’t worry,” she muttered in a rallying tone that was only a shadow of her normal teasing, “I’ve since learned my lesson.”

He felt a pang of guilt but dismissed it. There was no way he could have hurt her feelings. They always joked in this way. She was far more resilient and clever than that. Far too subtle to wear her heart on her sleeve.

She shifted deeper into her chair. “Tell me about another memory, Kurt. Please?” she asked, her face composed as if that moment of awkwardness had never happened. And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe he had just imagined it? “Tell me about your most successful campaign.”

He chuckled. “That might just be getting you and Constantin to survive my training in one piece.”

She also laughed and then everything was right again. “That is quite the success,” she agreed.

She continued peppering him with requests for stories until eventually from one moment to the next she dozed off. He gathered her into his arms but paused when she shifted and buried her face into the crook his neck. Her warm breath tickled his skin and his heart stuttered at the rush of warmth that suffused him. He gritted his teeth against the feeling and hurried on to return her as quickly as possible to her room.


	2. Vasco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and De Sardet’s late-night meetings become their new normal as she increasingly relies upon him. Things become awkward, however, when she reveals her growing interest . . . in Vasco.

Although Fiona De Sardet’s adventures largely took them away from cities and cultured sitting rooms, their late-night patterns continued. She could not seem to sleep properly without him either regaling her with tales or else sparring under the moonlight. Night after night, he came to expect a quiet tap on the shoulder during his watch or a soft knock at his door, and even to look forward to it.

He no longer asked if it was about bad dreams, because whether or not the dreams continued, he suspected that this had turned into something else. Although, what, he wasn’t quite sure. Maybe it was the familiarity of home he provided in these strange lands. Or, the peace of mind she gained from talking to someone who wanted nothing from her. Where words were just words and not counterattacks designed to get through her armor and elicit more political concessions.

At least that armor had grown thicker as she grew more confident in her role as legate and learned more about the island and its peoples. The divisions here ran deep and the politics were messy. But he was proud to see how she followed her own moral compass, and time and again found a path toward righting injustices and settling squabbles.

She also grew closer to the other companions who had joined her entourage in their travels around the island, Vasco, Siora, the Alliance scientist Aphra, the jaded bishop Petrus, which made Kurt appreciate even more the quiet moments he spent with De Sardet each night. He became almost protective of that time, for her sake, since so many people demanded a part of her.

Even he, to his shame, had drawn her into his own troubles with the guard. His eagerness to gain her approval of his recruit for Constantin’s personal guard had exposed her to a shocking case of murder and abuse at a phantom Coin Guard training camp. One that brought his own ghosts back to haunt him. It had taken all his self-control merely to arrest the leaders instead of razing the whole camp to the ground. Well, self-control and De Sardet at his side, propping him up when his control flagged.

When she asked him how he was holding up later that night, alone in the New Serene sitting room, Kurt only stared into the popping embers of the fire, unable to put his black mood into words. Curled up in her usual chair, head propped on the arm, she waited for his answer and then reached out and squeezed his hand. “You said earlier that you were fine, but I know that today was hard for you.”

He gave her a wan smile. “At least we spared those men any further abuse.” He paused. “What was left of those men.”

“They will recover. As you did.”

“I know.” He scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “What troubles me more is that I know the commander knew about this camp. I defended him for so long, but he must’ve known. Sieglinde was right.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

He propped his forearms on his knees and studied his hands. “I don’t know.” He had been so angry at the camp that he had been ready to storm into the palace and demand that Constantin court martial Commander Torsten. But now that his blood no longer boiled and he could think more clearly, Kurt was less certain.

“Do you want me to arrange a meeting with Constantin?” said De Sardet. “I will.”

“Let me think about it. Right now, I don’t really have definitive evidence that Torsten was directly involved. That letter we found at the camp was suggestive, but we would need much more. Torsten is very well respected.”

“Constantin would believe you,” she said gently. “He holds you in great esteem.”

He glanced up at her and could tell from the warmth in her tone that she included herself in that opinion. He sighed. “I couldn’t trade upon his goodwill that way. Or yours. I need something ironclad.”

“But . . .” she began, and he felt his jaw lock down as he prepared for her to badger him into doing things her way. But then she only murmured, “When you’re ready then.” The way she watched him, the gears turning in her head, he knew he hadn’t heard the last of the topic. “So, it seems that you knew Rolf . . . before?”

He tightened his jaw further. “Yes.”

“What was he to you? A friend, a rival?”

Rolf. Kurt hadn’t stopped to think about that connection to his past. “A little bit of both. I wouldn’t have willingly chosen him to be my comrade, and yet he was. And he was always picking at me of make sure that he was the best, the strongest, and the most appreciated.” Rolf had always striven to be Hermann’s favorite. A chill passed over Kurt’s skin as it always did thinking about that monster, and his mind shied away. “I suppose we all have someone like this in our past,” he deflected, trying to make it sound normal, which it never had been. “Did you not experience that with Constantin?”

Her gaze sharpened, recognizing his change of topic for what it was. “Constantin was never easy-going,” she acceded. “But we were friends more often than we were rivals. I know he could be awful towards other children, but he always had a liking for me.”

“You were, and I think you still are, his only friend. The court has not been kind to him.”

“It’s true.” She smiled suddenly. “Did you know that his father told him one day that he would never climb up the ladder if he did not start behaving in a noble way? Constantin took it a bit too literally and decided to climb up the city walls.”

Kurt found himself laughing unexpectedly. Only De Sardet could’ve gotten him to laugh on a day like today. “Yes. I wasn’t with you then, but I was told about it. That was the first time you saved his life. You were very brave that day. And if memory serves, thanks you to you, he wasn’t even punished. You really are the friend everyone dreams of having.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” she said, stretching languidly before settling back against the chair arm. “You seem to be the friend in demand.” She paused for a moment and a mischievous sparkle entered her eye. “Sieglinde appears to know you well, and to have a lot of respect for you.”

He shrugged. “We fought together, that brings people closer.” He narrowed his eyes, and added gruffly, “You know that.” He sat back in his chair, privately relieved that she had put them back on familiar ground with her faux-jealousy, particularly after that tense moment weeks back in Hikmet where her hero worship seemed to have taken a slightly less platonic turn. “But I can assure you that’s all there is to it. Actually, up until now, I fought by your side more often than I have hers.”

“And? Do you think you know me?” she challenged.

_Not as well as I’d like_ , came the unbidden thought. Out loud, he said, “Well enough, I suppose. Whether it is from all the fighting or from the many year spent in your shadow, I know not.”

An emotion he couldn’t decipher passed over her face. “Yet you still seem to surprise _me_.”

“Just as you surprise me often. I think this is part of becoming friends. Isn’t it?” He didn’t have a lot of experience with this. Mercenaries didn’t normally start friendships with their employers, since it was a professional liability. But she was more than an employer to him. Much more, he was learning.

“Yes,” she declared, like she had just decided it was so.

He grinned. And just like that, everything was back to normal. Or, so he thought. 

ooXXoo

They had finished an exhausting bout of grappling just outside the ring of light from their camp in the woods outside Vignamri. De Sardet slid to the ground next to him, too tired for grace as she plopped into the dust with a weary sigh and leaned back on her arms. During their bout, the braid she usually wore in a crown around her head had come undone and so she had quickly rebraided it into a single plait that fell down her back to brush the ground. They had each abandoned their heavy doublets for lighter linen undershirts and yet still her skin glowed in the moonlight from perspiration. 

Her shoulder bumped companionably into his as she shifted to one side to roll back one of her sleeves. “After all this practicing, I had hoped to feel like I was improving.” She sounded disappointed.

“You are, Green Blood. I can no longer go easy on you.”

She went still and slowly swiveled her head toward him at this. “You used to go easy on me?”

“I wanted you to feel like you were doing well,” he said, feeling a sudden need to fidget under her accusatory gaze.

She sighed. “I’m disappointed, Kurt. Sounds like you’re going soft in your old age.” A tired smirk curved her lips for a second.

“With age, comes wisdom,” he said with a pious look at the heavens.

She burst out with a throaty chuckle and collapsed backward until she was sprawled flat on her back beside him. “I dearly hope so.”

He glanced down at her, but she was gazing at the sky, lost in thought. After a moment, she said, “I know that Vasco says these are the same stars I see on the continent, but they still look different.”

Kurt squinted up at the sky and then leaned himself back until he was laying prone beside her on the grass and could see from her perspective. “I can’t see any of the constellations I know,” he admitted.

“Exactly. Vasco finally pointed out the Warrior to me.” She pointed at a blur of stars with a few brighter ones that might make a triangle. “And apparently those are the Twins.” She pointed lower, near the horizon, at a dual grouping of fuzzy stars. “He claims that they’re the same stars, it’s just that everything looks brighter here on the island.”

Kurt frowned, trying to wrap his mind around that one. “How can stars change their brightness?”

“They don’t. He says it’s because there are fewer lights and settlements here.”

How the stars could know anything about the island and its inhabitants made absolutely no sense to Kurt. He wondered if it could be something the sailor had made up to impress his young charge. Kurt had seen De Sardet and Vasco talking quite a bit more since they had helped the Naut with some of his family business. “Well if _Vasco_ says so,” Kurt grumbled.

In his peripheral vision, he saw De Sardet turn her head toward him and then back. After a palpable beat, she said, “Kurt, what do you think of Vasco?”

Unsure exactly what she was getting at, he responded truthfully. “He’s good in a fight. Thinks on his feet. Speaks his mind. Good man. Why?”

The silence drew out when she didn’t answer. Finally, he turned toward her. “Why?”

She giggled and propped her head up on her hand to look down at him, grinning. The distant firelight glinted in her eyes.

The inside of his chest went alternately cold and then hot. “Oh,” he said, even less articulately than usual.

“He is a good man, though, isn’t he?” she gushed. “He even recites poetry!” She practically thrummed with excitement.

Kurt blinked. This was completely uncharted territory for him. He had never seen her like this. De Sardet’s previous crushes had included dandies and milksops that never presented any real threat to her virtues. Or his nerves. He mirrored her, propping his head on his fist so they were facing each other. “Poetry _and_ good in a fight? There are worse things, I suppose.”

“But, you like him, don’t you?” She bit her lip.

“I have to say that I do.”

“But . . .?”

He let out a gust of air. “But, you know that he’s a Naut.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean . . .” What did he mean? Kurt did genuinely like Vasco. But did he like him for his Green Blood? “I mean that the sea is his true love.” Her face crinkled up in confusion, so he added, “He’ll be sailing away again one day. Whether or not he has someone in every port.”

She solemnly considered his words for a time before the twinkle crept back into her eye. A sly smile spread on her face. “What do I care for that? So long as I’m the girl in this port.”

It took a moment for Kurt to realize that his mouth was hanging open, and he closed it with a snap. He opened his mouth again, several lectures about to tumble out about how she was a De Sardet, a scion of her family, and should expect more. How she deserved more. He closed his mouth again, gritting his teeth. At least it was Vasco? Kurt hadn’t known him long but knew the sea captain was an honorable man. Too honorable to hurt Fiona unnecessarily.

And if he did hurt her? Well, Kurt knew where Vasco slept.

“Just have a care for your heart, Green Blood,” Kurt said at last.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me, Kurt.” She got to her feet and flipped her braid back over her shoulder. “I’ve learned my lessons well. Good night.” She strode toward her blankets near the fire, leaving him with a feeling of dread cramping his stomach.

ooXXoo

Their group’s return to Hikmet the next day was dismal, and not just because it had started to rain. Now that Kurt understood what he was witnessing, he could see the whispered conversations and smiles between De Sardet and Vasco for what they were. He shouldn’t watch, but he couldn’t stop.

She stopped to gather some healing herbs by the side of the road, and Vasco joined her to help carry them back. She frowned down at her map in the cold drizzle and Vasco brushed back the wet lock plastered to her blushing cheek. The captain’s gaze constantly followed her, and what was worse, she would catch his watchful eye and smile back.

The ache in Kurt’s chest grew as he bottled up his protective instincts. He could shield her from anything in the world but this. So he watched in silence while the ache endured.

The leaden gray sky barely changed as the sun began to set and the gloom only deepened. They finally reached Hikmet and their single-file trek down the sodden cobblestone streets was like a forced march. No one spoke. They only hurried to get to the residence and out of the rain.

Everyone, exhausted and soaked to the bone, immediately retired for the evening and dispersed to their rooms to get dry. Even De Sardet was asleep on her feet, which at least should keep her bad dreams at bay. Kurt went through his usual evening routine and embraced the methodical discipline of preparing to sleep, arranging his few belongings just so, avoiding conscious thought.

The house quieted as he slipped under his blankets and rolled to his back, his arms folded behind his head. His body craved sleep but his mind raced. In the darkness, he pictured Vasco brushing Fiona’s hair behind her ear, and he spun over onto his side, trying to dispel the image. He punched his pillow and tried again to lull his mind.

He was concentrating so hard on not thinking about anything that he almost didn’t hear the creak at first. His eyes flipped open as he heard it again. He rolled onto his back and tracked the familiar three-point pacing above his head again. He grimaced at the thought that her dreams had made her restless again and automatically sat up, preparing to intercept her in the sitting room like usual. But then the pattern changed.

There was a new sound of creaking upon the distant stair, but the sound of pacing above his head had not abated. The two sets of sounds grew bolder and more distinct as they drew together. Then they coalesced into a single set of steps creaking in chaotic harmony upon the floorboards above him, louder and more urgent. Kurt’s pulse sped in panic, pounding in his chest, as the carnal symphony of quiet creaks and moans from the floor above trapped him into becoming their silent witness. Then, something large scraped over the floor, like a heavy fourposter.

Kurt bolted out of bed, dressed in a whirlwind, shoved his feet into his boots, and was out the front door, leaving the telltale creaking behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my goals was to try to justify narratively the in-game choice I made in romancing Vasco first. Thanks for reading!


	3. Indulgences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and De Sardet find ways to move their friendship forward after her encounter with Vasco.

Kurt stared blearily into his warm ale. His aching eyes were so sandy from lack of sleep that he had difficulty blinking. The dark, torch lit interior of Hikmet’s Coin Guard tavern, like every Coin Guard tavern in every town he had ever visited, gave him no indication of whether the sun had finally arisen outside. But he guessed that it must have, since the number of incoming patrons had started to increase again.

The tavern keeper, who had been replaced at some point in the night by a member of her staff, bustled up noisily behind the bar for a new day, taking inventory and replacing depleted bottles of whiskey and other spirits. From the corner of his eye, Kurt saw the barkeep approach one of the coin guards on duty, murmur something in his ear, and then return to readying the tavern for the day.

Not long after, a dark armored form stepped into Kurt’s line of sight. He raised his sandy eyes to focus on the red Coin Guard doublet of Dieter, a junior officer under one of Torsten’s lieutenants, and someone Kurt had known on the continent. Dieter took in Kurt’s slumped form and wrinkled his nose. “Kurt, you look like hell.”

“Back at you, Dieter. I thought you were in New Serene?”

Dieter smirked and slid into a chair across from Kurt. “I’ll ask you the same. What are you doin’ here? The innkeeper asked me to get you to leave. She said you’re discouraging customers.”

Puzzled, Kurt glanced around him and saw that the others who entered were giving him a wide berth. Did he reek from the drinking? But he hadn’t drunk that much. He wasn’t sure he had even achieved inebriation at any point. He had ordered the drinks more to give himself an excuse to stay. Or . . . Kurt thought back. Was it because he had started a fight with someone who had crowded him? And another with someone who had looked at him wrong? Or was that two or three someones? He fingered a new bruise that pulled tautly at the skin of his cheekbone. His experience with brawls told him that the swelling was still coming up. He must look a sight.

“Look, I’m not one to interfere in another man’s business. But you should go home, Kurt.”

Home? Kurt had no home. Fiona De Sardet had become his home, but she wasn’t his any longer. He pushed the pint away and stared at his empty hands.

Dieter stroked his dark beard thoughtfully. “Normally you’re lockstep with Lady De Sardet, so I can only guess that somehow you’re in the doghouse,” he said with too much insight. “Either go face it, or go crash in the barracks if you’ve nowhere else to go. I don’t like seein’ you like this.”

“M’apologies,” he mumbled, and lumbered to his feet.

Dieter stood as well and clapped him on the shoulder. “Remember. The Guard always has your back.” 

Kurt nodded glumly and headed to the door. His head swam a bit but his gait was steady. That was something. He had forgotten his hat during his hasty departure the night before, and so the bright morning sunlight blinded him, making his eyes water until he shaded them with a hand, blinking until he could see. The sun was already well up. Maybe De Sardet had already left the residence for the day. Or so he hoped.

The walk back felt far longer than he remembered. Plus, his head had started to pound along with new aches he could feel all over his body, which no doubt would reveal new bruises once he took an inventory. He scratched the corner of his mouth and his fingers came away with flakes of dried blood.

He stopped when he reached the front walk to the residence, unsure what kind of reception he would receive. But as he tried to imagine various scenarios, he pushed them all away and strode onward through the front door. He crossed the foyer into the sitting room and stood listening.

Murmuring in the dining room suggested they were still here and lingering over breakfast. Wonderful. There was a quick dash of booted footsteps clicking down the tiled hallway, and then De Sardet was standing in the entry to the room. Her eyes were wide and her brow furrowed with concern.

“Kurt! Where have you been? You’re bleeding. Were you attacked?” She rushed over to him and started fussing, turning his head this way and that to take in his injuries. He submitted in silence and she clucked and muttered about surgeons and bandages. Behind her, their companions crowded the doorway, Vasco in the forefront.

Vasco met Kurt’s eyes with a knowing look, nodded, and then returned to the dining room. “Let’s give them some space,” the captain murmured to the others, shepherding them out of the room.

Finally, Kurt looked down into De Sardet’s worried eyes, where she waited for answers. “My apologies, Excellency. I was checking in with the Guard. I ran into some street thugs on my way back,” he lied.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Do they look better or worse than you do?”

“Worse.”

“Still. Let me get some water and bandages.”

Under other circumstances, he would have enjoyed the attention, but right now it was too much. “No, I can take care of it. I’ll just go wash up and maybe take a soak in a hot bath.”

“That could be a good idea. I don’t know what you fell in, but you smell like a tavern.” She gave him a searching look. “Fine. Go. I’ll send someone to fill the bath.”

He started to move down the hall to his room, feeling some of his abused muscles start to stiffen, when she added, “I worried when I couldn’t find you this morning.”

He glanced back over his shoulder at her and her wringing hands and could well believe she’d been worried. But he had no real words of comfort for her. “Everything’s fine,” he muttered, not sounding remotely believable.

An hour later, Kurt still lingered in the bath even though the water had cooled and his fingers had pruned. It was a luxury he still appreciated despite having lived in a palace for fifteen years. But more than that, he simply wasn’t ready to confront the world.

After disrobing, he’d found more blood in a few places, but nothing that seemed to require stitches. His face was the worst of it, the glass in his room told him. He was beginning to have trouble seeing out of his right eye as the swelling grew.

There was a soft knock at his door. “Yes?” he called.

“Kurt?” De Sardet’s voice was muffled from the door, but also softer and stilted in that way you speak to the sick. When he didn’t answer, she continued, “We’re heading out to see the governor. Un-unless you would like to come along. You’re always welcome.”

He stepped out of the bath and wrapped a drying cloth around his waist. He yanked open the door and she gasped. He was still streaming water, and his newest bruises and cuts were well on display. But instead of fussing over his injuries, she made a slow perusal, scanning him from head to toe, her eyes unblinking and strangely hungry. Which made no sense, given her choice of companion the night before. She swallowed and finally pulled her gaze back up to his. “Um.” She wet her lower lip.

“Do you need something?” He only half regretted the brusqueness of his tone.

“W-would you like to come with us? To the governor’s palace?” she said breathlessly.

“If you don’t need me specifically, I’ll stay at the residence today, Excellency.”

“All right.” Her voice was small and disappointed. “I’ll check in on you later then.”

He nodded, and still she hesitated as she stepped away before turning to depart. He shut the door but didn’t let out a relieved breath until he heard the front door to the residence shut behind them. He finished drying off, threw on some clothes, and then collapsed onto the bed. He shot a final glance at the ceiling toward the now quiet floorboards and then immediately drifted off.

ooXXoo

Kurt woke with a start and had no idea what time it was. He rubbed his eyes but then regretted it as the right side of his face protested in pain. He still needed to squint out of that eye, but at least he could see, mostly. He looked around the room and could see a pale outline of light around the curtains, suggesting it was still day. On the small table beside his bed sat a full glass of water that had not been present earlier. Looking down, he saw that he was also covered by a blanket that previously had lain across the foot of the bed.

He could only assume that De Sardet had been here while he slept. No one else in the house would have dared to enter without permission. He couldn’t help but smile, despite everything.

A peek out the window coverings revealed that the sun was close to setting, which meant that he had slept all day. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been allowed to shirk his duties in such way. He immediately dressed and went in search of De Sardet and the others.

He found them gathered in the dining room again having finished eating dinner. They were engaged in a lively debate about ethics in science, of all things. De Sardet smiled at him from the head of the table and then re-engaged Aphra, who sat on her right, on some point that had Petrus, sitting to De Sardet’s left, trying to talk over both of them. Vasco sat beside Aphra with his arms crossed over his chest and making spare comments from time to time. Siora sat opposite him beside Petrus and only observed, but with eyes narrowed in deep suspicion. Kurt slipped into an empty chair at the end of the table beside Siora, and one of the hovering servants immediately filled his plate with steaming food.

“Kurt,” Vasco said with a nod of greeting.

“Vasco.”

“How are you feeling?” Siora asked Kurt.

“Fit as a fiddle,” Kurt replied, digging into his food so he didn’t have to speak more.

He let the conversation wash over him without attending to it. He was, therefore, caught off guard when De Sardet suddenly said, “I think we’ll just have to agree to disagree and change the subject. Kurt, are you feeling better?” All eyes turned to him.

He froze with a fork halfway to his mouth and then lowered it. “I’m perfectly fine. I was fine this morning. You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”

“Well, it seemed you needed it. When I checked in on you, you were sleeping like the dead, so I asked everyone to let you be.” She searched his face like she was still trying to find the truth of what had happened to him that morning.

“I assume the meeting with the governor went well?” Kurt asked.

“As well as can be expected,” she grumbled. As he had intended, the others then immediately launched back into a spirited discussion of the Bridge Alliance and their approach to science.

Curiously, Vasco, who had been joined at the hip with De Sardet the day before, no longer sat directly beside her. But then, maybe they were finally trying to be discreet. Kurt hoped that would include a lack of creaking floorboards tonight, which he didn’t think he would be able to endure. Short of murdering Vasco or ripping out the floorboards, he decided he could perhaps bunk in the sitting room, so that at least it wouldn’t be directly overhead.

“I hope you’ll still be able to sleep tonight, Kurt,” De Sardet said out of nowhere.

“What?” Kurt raised his head in alarm. “What do you mean?” he asked more cautiously. He had been paying no attention to the discussion.

She smiled. “Because you’ve slept so long today! I hope that doesn’t make it hard for you to go back to your regular sleep pattern.”

“Oh, that, yes. Well. Sometimes we all need a change in our . . . patterns.”

He hadn’t intended for his comment to sound so pointed, but she blanched and dropped her eyes down to her plate, seeming to understand his allusion at the last. Unfortunately, everyone else did, too, as they all fell silent for a beat. Vasco’s attention bounced between Kurt and De Sardet, his expression closed and inscrutable. Then everyone else started talking at once, taking their leave as chairs scraped loudly back from the table.

Kurt used the tumult as cover to slip out of the dining room and back to his room.

For all his worries for De Sardet, he fully respected her decision to pursue Vasco. The awkwardness in the dining room showed him how selfish he was being, focused as he was on his own discomfort over hers. He shook his head in an attempt to clear out the remaining cobwebs from the previous night’s indulgences.

_Indulgent_. That perfectly summed up how he was acting, and it shamed him. It wasn’t like him to let a little discomfort get in the way of his duty.

That said, De Sardet was right that he would have difficulty sleeping at a reasonable hour, so he grabbed his kit, shouldered his weapon, and headed out to the barracks for some training.

ooXXoo

Many hours later, Kurt still despaired of finding his way back to sleep.

His visit to the barracks had successfully beaten his body into a state of trembling fatigue. Apparently, the whole Blue-Green regiment had heard about his overnight visit to the tavern, and several soldiers had taunted Kurt about being on the outs with De Sardet. Some of the more reckless even dared to speculate how they could replace him in her inner circle—and all the double entendres therein. Their ensuing sparring matches, therefore, had been suitably vicious that Kurt had gained many additional bruises and now every muscle in his body screamed for rest. But, once he had returned to the residence later that night, he found that it was his mind he now needed to tire out.

He had lain awake for what seemed like an eternity, anxiously following every sound as the house quieted to an expectant silence. His dread of hearing a creak on the floorboards above him kept his mind engaged and active. Finally, it had become late enough that he could shut himself in the sitting room with no one the wiser and simply limit his exposure to De Sardet’s nighttime activities.

He crept down the hallway to the sitting room and saw no sign that anyone else was still moving about. He tried the long, pea green divan against one wall, but upon lying flat, confirmed his suspicion that his feet would hang off the end. He eyed the pile of giant, tasseled green cushions in one corner, the purpose of which he could only guess, and realized it still would be a step up from his only alternative of simply bunking on the floor.

It took longer than he expected to shift around the mass of pillows until he was laying mostly flat, and as a result, he was as wide awake as ever. He stared at the play of firelight on the ceiling and willed himself to sleep. Instead, his gaze roamed about the darkened room, identifying the unfamiliar shadows thrown by the furniture. He had spent so many nights in this room that he should be able to map it from memory, but apparently, he must have been completely focused on his companion instead of his surroundings.

He was going soft.

After some tossing and turning that pushed his pillows askew again, he caught sight of a book that had fallen to the floor nearby. With a resigned sigh, he sat up and drew it near. The cover showed knights and ladies all in Bridge Alliance dress. He flipped it open and could make out some colorful illuminations of knights in battle against a dragon. Curiosity piqued, he turned up one of the oil lamps and started to read. The adventure pulled him in, and he only belatedly recognized that it was one of those Alliance romances he’d heard women at court sighing over. But it kept his mind occupied. So occupied that he almost didn’t hear the creak on the stair until it had turned into footsteps down the tiled hallway.

He tensed at the sound. De Sardet must be headed to Vasco’s room this time. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse, since it was only a door or two down from his own. He heard a soft knock, the sound unmistakable to him now, and held his breath, willing his ears to stop listening. There was a strained silence and then the footsteps continued, sounding louder. The door to the sitting room cracked open and dark blue eyes peeked around the limn, widening when they caught sight of him on his bed of pillows.

He sat up so quickly that the bloody pillows shifted and dumped him onto his rump on the floor. He swore and scrambled to his feet, only to face Fiona De Sardet and the questions in her dark gaze. She softly shut the door behind her, her hands still holding onto the handle at her back as if preparing for a quick escape.

Neither of them spoke for a time. Then she said, “You weren’t in your room. I was worried again.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He gave her a rueful half smile.

She nodded slowly, her gaze averted and wandering aimlessly about the room. Her attention caught briefly on the book he had abandoned. “Me, either.”

“Bad dreams?” he asked without thinking.

She nodded again.

“Can’t Vasco help distract you?” he asked, trying hard not to sound bitter.

She sighed and shook her head. “I can’t ask that of him.”

Kurt frowned. Safeguarding her sleep should be the least the sailor could do for her.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” she added.

Now Kurt was completely baffled, which must have shown on his face. “Why?”

“B-because I broke it off.”

All the air rushed out of his chest. “What?”

She released the door handle at last and wrapped her arms around her chest. “It wasn’t fair to him.”

“I don’t understand,” Kurt said bluntly.

She came all the way into the room and perched on the edge of the chair she usually chose near the fire, arms still wrapped tightly. She glanced guiltily up at him and then away. “I thought . . . Well, I just couldn’t do that to him. He . . . He loves too deeply. And I’m . . . I’m just the girl in this port.”

Kurt sank into the other chair, mind reeling at this revelation. “I’m so sorry, Green Blood.”

“No, feel sorry for Vasco. I feel horrible. I just wanted . . .” She paused and darted another guilty look at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Kurt knew he should feel sorry for his friend, and in some distant corner of his mind, he did. Vasco was a good man. But instead, Kurt felt a rush of warmth in his chest that he could only describe as elation. A feeling that rightly frightened him. He cleared his throat. “How did you leave it with him?”

“I hope we can still be friends. I think we can.” She unwrapped her arms and clasped her hands in lap. “He seemed to understand. I think. And it was just the one time . . . Erm, well, the one night.” She blushed at her admission, turning bright red. Or maybe that was his eyes seeing red, as he ground his teeth against the renewed need to murder Vasco.

Kurt forced his fists to unclench. “I’ll hope for that as well. Vasco has been a useful addition to our team, for the time that he’s with us.”

She gave him a feeble but hopeful smile that made his heart stutter and then she scanned the room again as silence fell between them. Her gaze fell onto his book, lying discarded besides the disheveled pillows. “So. What are you reading there?”

He flushed and almost disavowed the book. “It’s nothing. The clock seems to be running slow tonight, so I was just looking for a way to pass the time.”

“Well, funny thing. I am, too.” She smiled and pulled her feet up onto the chair, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Would you read to me?”

He couldn’t read such a book to her. Her tastes were far too refined. “I don’t think you would like it.”

She snuggled back against the arm of the chair like she usually did. “I just want to hear the sound of your voice. It’s the only thing that helps me sleep anymore. Please?”

How could he say no to that?

He retrieved the book from the floor and then angled his chair so he had enough light by which to read. He cleared his throat. “Do you want me to start from the beginning?”

“No, just give me a short summary of where you are.”

Haltingly, he described the knight’s quest to defeat the dragon and safeguard his Queen’s kingdom. The story felt sillier hearing it in his own words.

“How lucky she is,” Fiona said, biting her lip, “that her knight is there to protect her.” She gave him a long look that scorched him, her heart in her eyes.

His pulse started pounding in his ears and he suddenly felt the craziest inclination to bow down and pledge himself to her or something similarly foolish and archaic. The damnable romance book clearly was a bad influence. De Sardet already had his service and paid well for it. But even if not, he knew now that he would always protect her, to the end of time if she would allow him.

He cleared his throat. “Always, fair lady,” he said softly and the tremulous smile she returned was worth everything. He drank it in for a moment, and then turned to the book. “Chapter 4.”

She lasted for about two pages before her eyes drifted closed and she was out cold. He closed the book in his lap and let her sink further into sleep. 

Once her breathing had evened out, he stood up, stepping gingerly as his muscles had stiffened over the hours, and hobbled over to her chair, feeling every one of his 35 years. Despite her height, De Sardet was still slight enough that he knew he could carry her up the stairs. But tonight, it would hurt. He knelt before her chair and carefully rolled her into his arms, but then grunted in pain as his calf muscles cramped while he tried to rise to his feet.

Her eyes shot open. “Kurt!” she mumbled in alarm, reaching for him and shifting her weight in a way that forced him to ease her back onto the chair in order that he didn’t drop her altogether. She sat up, blinking, her eyes on a level with his where he knelt before her chair. “Are you okay?” She endearingly knuckled the sleep from one eye.

“I’m fine.” He swore under his breath as his thigh muscles also chimed in with their own protests. “Go back to sleep, Green Blood.”

“No. You’re not.” She reached out a hand to cup the right side of his face, where he was still squinting from the swelling, and he froze, his heart pounding again, the pain from his legs dissolving away. Her touch was feather light and exploratory, tracing the ridge of his brow and then down along the side of his face, skirting the tender regions that had darkened into a formidable black eye. Her finger tips then trailed down his cheek, catching on the harsh stubble he hadn’t bothered to remove in recent days. “One of these days I’ll do a better job of protecting you.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but then she snatched her hand back and flushed. “Forgive me,” she mumbled. “I should get back to bed.” She jumped up and had navigated past him before he had even managed to gain his feet. She paused at the door. “Good night, Kurt. Please sleep well.” Then she was gone and he was left with a riot of conflicting emotions coursing through him. He raised a hand to his cheek where the trail of her fingertips still burned.


	4. Treason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt’s loyalties are finally put to the test, and his relationship with De Sardet is one of the first casualties of the conflict.

The next few days were a whirlwind as shocking revelations came to light about the history of the island, suggesting the continent’s involvement far earlier than the Bridge Alliance’s incursion fifteen years past. De Sardet was relentless in her pursuit of clues to this history, which sent them racing back to New Serene to consult with Constantin.

Their grueling travel schedule left them all exhausted, De Sardet and her bad dreams included. Although that left Kurt little time alone with her, he was relieved that he no longer had to tiptoe around her infatuation with Vasco. De Sardet had resumed her friendship with the captain almost as if nothing had happened, and while Vasco was perhaps a little more polite with her than before, he still betrayed a warmth in his voice when he spoke to her.

Kurt’s interactions with his charge also should have returned to normal, and they had for the most part. Except that he found he had a new awareness of Fiona De Sardet when she was near him. A stray brush of her hand sent his thoughts back to the sitting room in Hikmet, haunted by the trace of her fingers across his skin, which had been quite innocent except for his reaction to it. If she hadn’t fled from the room when she did, he wasn’t sure what he might have done next. That razor’s edge of uncertainty now infused every moment with her. It was as intoxicating as it was irrational.

De Sardet had them stop briefly at the residence upon their return to New Serene in order to clean off the dust from the road before presenting themselves to Constantin. Kurt dropped off his gear in his room and was washing the grime from his face when her distinctive soft knock sounded on his door. He jumped eagerly to open it but found De Sardet grim-faced upon the threshold. “Green Blood, my friend. Do you need something?”

She slipped inside and shut the door. “Before we meet with Constantin, I wanted to see if you had made a decision on reporting Torsten’s connection to the phantom training camp.”

“ _Possible_ connection.” He dodged her earnest gaze, still uncertain about giving voice to his suspicions without more solid proof.

“Kurt.” She placed a hand on his arm, giving it a brief squeeze. “I don’t want to push, but I know this is important to you. And if it’s true, it’s important for Constantin, as well. I fully stand behind you on this. Major Sieglinde supports you as well.”

Kurt sighed. He had told Sieglinde he would do something and his connection to the D’Orsay family made him the only logical messenger. “All right. I’ll talk to him if he’ll see me.”

She gave him a quick smile, squeezed his arm again. “He will,” she averred, backing up toward the door. “We leave in five minutes.”

Their meeting with Constantin was unfortunately quite short, partially because the governor knew little more than they did about the island’s history, partially because he had another appointment following theirs, partially because he was simply Constantin. The interview included Constantin’s requisite rancor toward his father, the Prince, followed by a short repartee with Vasco, who disclaimed any knowledge of the Nauts’ history with Teer Fradee, and ended with instructions for them to seek out more answers from the Naut admiral. Then Constantin was breezing out of the hall without De Sardet having been able to mention the situation with Commander Torsten.

De Sardet shot Kurt a frustrated grimace. “Constantin!” she called, following after him with Kurt trailing in her wake.

Constantin turned around at the entry to the governor’s office that was held open by one of the Blue-Silver soldiers assigned to the palace. “I’m afraid I must be off, dear cousin. Another tedious landowner dispute that will apparently implode without my immediate and benevolent attention. Let me know what else you learn!” He gave her a jaunty wave and swept out of the room as the soldier definitively closed the door behind him.

De Sardet shot Kurt an angry glare, swearing viciously, and then spun on her heel to stride out the door.

The soldier then caught Kurt’s eye, giving him a look, he supposed, of sympathy in the face of De Sardet’s anger. “As you were, soldier,” Kurt growled before turning to follow De Sardet. 

Once they had left the great hall, she turned to Kurt with a helpless look. “I’m sorry. Perhaps we can make an appointment with him at another time?”

He shook his head. “No need to apologize. It can wait. Now is not the time to add more controversy anyway. Let’s focus on the one at hand.”

“All right,” she said in a dispirited tone. “We’ll go see Admiral Cabral and find out what she knows.” 

She looked so disappointed on his behalf, more so than Kurt was himself, that his own spirits brightened.

ooXXoo

Their visit to Admiral Cabral sent them on the road again, this time to San Mateus. The Admiral, not content to tell De Sardet the truth without attaching a price, had asked them first to investigate some trouble the Nauts were having with Theleme’s religious zealots, the Ordo Luminus.

De Sardet set out with only Kurt and Vasco in tow so that they could move quickly, but this soon proved to be an awkward configuration when the conflict in San Mateus began to bleed into her still-fragile relationship with Vasco. They found that the Ordo Luminus apparently had decided that the Nauts were not susceptible to the Malichor plague because the seafarers had caused it. A ludicrous theory except for the basic fact that something did seem to be protecting the Nauts from the deadly disease.

For De Sardet, even the faintest hope of a cure was enough for her to become almost bullheaded in her single-minded search for answers, no matter whose answers they may be. For Vasco, however, her investigation threatened closely held Naut secrets, leading to significant friction between the two. For Kurt’s part, he could see both sides, so he stayed out of it and simply endured the sometimes icy silences between the former lovers.

Eventually, De Sardet found a way to solve both problems, discrediting the Ordo Luminus and their conspiracy theory while also protecting Vasco’s secrets. Relations between De Sardet and Vasco warmed up again around the camp fire on their way back to New Serene, which on the whole, was a positive thing. Except that Kurt unaccountably found himself missing the silences.

They emerged from the woods north of New Serene just as the early morning breeze was stirring the new windmill’s sails. They followed the dusty road through the gently swaying fields to approach the northern gate of the awakening city.

The yawning Coin Guard recruit at the gate, whose name Kurt had forgotten, saluted. “Captain Kurt, the Commander wants to see you.”

“The Commander’s here? In New Serene?”

“Aye. He said if I saw you come through this gate, that I should alert you.”

Kurt gave the man a nod of dismissal. “Message received. At ease, recruit.”

They continued into the city, which was just starting to stir. De Sardet eyed Kurt curiously. “Did you know Torsten was coming here?”

Kurt shook his head. “News to me.” The early morning sun had not yet risen above the city wall, casting the muddy main street into shadow. Few people were abroad, and the city had that unnatural stillness where you could just hear the gulls at the port from a distance.

When they entered the residence, one of the servants immediately handed Kurt a message. “This came for you, sir.”

Kurt frowned and ripped it open, scanning the contents.

“Who is it from?” De Sardet asked.

“Torsten. He wants me to report as soon as I returned to town. Makes it sound urgent.”

“Why do you think he wants to see you?”

“Doesn’t say.” He shook his head at the peremptory note. There was no reason the commander of all people should explain himself, but the request did feel unusual since Kurt wasn’t a direct report. “He always was impatient. I guess I won’t be joining you to hear about the island’s secrets from the Admiral after all.”

“We could wait for you?”

“No, don’t bother. I have no idea how long this might take.” He looked at the note again, strangely troubled by it and by his greeting at the north gate.

“I’ll give you a full accounting later tonight,” she assured him, a smile lurking on her lips.

He looked up with a ready smile. “Oh! So now you’re _planning ahead_ to not sleep well?” He arched a sardonic brow at her.

“We will see.” She smiled beatifically and strolled toward the stairs.

He went to his room, restored some semblance of discipline to his appearance, and then proceeded to the barracks.

ooXXoo

Kurt’s sense of unease rose as he entered the New Serene barracks and several officers he didn’t know particularly well greeted him by name. The numbers of milling soldiers also had dramatically increased, particularly for such an early hour, and there was a palpable sense of tension, almost excitement.

He saw Manfred standing amidst the crowd in the entryway, looking harried and directing some unruly recruits who were balking.

“Back to your quarters, I said!” Manfred was saying as Kurt approached him.

“What is happening?” Kurt asked.

“Ah, Kurt. Glad you’re here finally. The commander’s been asking everyone about you.”

Unease turned to genuine wariness. Kurt narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “But, why?”

Manfred hitched a shoulder and looked away to watch the grumbling recruits head off up the stairs. “I know not to ask those questions,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’m hoping you can.” Manfred ducked his head and headed off to dress down more recruits.

Kurt headed up the stairs toward the officer quarters and Torsten’s office. Every room contained small groups of soldiers arming weapons, adjusting straps on armor, or bantering in obvious anticipation of . . . something. Kurt strode faster.

He knocked on Torsten’s door and waited to be acknowledged. After a moment, the door eased open a fraction and a woman wearing a basinet that mostly obscured her face peeked out. “Ah.” She turned over her shoulder. “Kurt is here, Commander.”

“Let him in.” Then the voice continued rumbling, but in a low enough register that Kurt couldn’t make out the words.

The woman opened the door wider after a moment, and several soldiers streamed out, a few side-eyeing Kurt surreptitiously.

“Kurt, come in, come in,” he heard from within. He stepped inside and Torsten sat behind his desk, his heavyset figure filling the room with his presence. “That will be all, Corporal,” the commander directed the woman at the door, who also exited, leaving them alone.

Kurt planted himself before the desk at attention. “Captain Kurt, reporting.”

“At ease,” Torsten told him, and Kurt relaxed, clasping his hands behind his back. Torsten steepled his fingers, his close-set eyes narrowed in thought. “You’re a hard man to track down, Captain.”

Kurt waited for a direct question, training his eyes above Torsten’s head.

Finally, it came. “You’ve been traveling a lot?”

“Yes, sir. The legate has many concerns across the island.”

“The legate? I see. And what of the new governor?”

“His new position generally requires him in New Serene, and the legate travels on his behalf.”

“I see. I presume that must be hard, splitting your attention between your two charges?” Torsten peered at him from over his steepled fingers, studying him intently.

Kurt worked to hide his own internal struggles with this balance. He had spent almost every second since arriving in New Serene with De Sardet, and his efforts at installing reliable guards for Constantin through his recruitment of Reiner had failed utterly. “I’m only one person, Commander, and the cousins each have their own separate lives. These days, I need to rely on the fact that I’ve trained them well, and that we’ve recruited good men and women to protect them both.”

“Indeed. Indeed.” Torsten lowered his hands and leaned back in his chair, like he was leading up to something. “That is our contract. To protect them both. But you’ve been with them such a long time now. Since they were children really. For some men, that might turn into more than just a contract. For some men, that could . . . complicate one’s loyalties.”

A chill spread through Kurt’s chest and he froze.

_He knows._

Somehow the commander knew that Kurt’s devotion to Fiona De Sardet had evolved beyond a mere contract. That, for all his bluster about being a cold-hearted mercenary, his care for her went beyond gold, beyond reason. He wasn’t sure when that had changed. He suspected it was somewhere between watching her tuck her bare toes up onto her favorite sitting room chair and her nodding off to the sound of his voice each night.

The commander watched him closely, so Kurt keep his face neutral, his voice even. “For some men. Is there a question in there, Commander?”

“I will be quite blunt then. Where do your loyalties lie, Captain?” Torsten tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair.

“With the Guard, sir,” he gruffly. “As always.”

“That is reassuring to hear. I’ve heard . . . mixed reports. I’ve heard in fact that your loyalty to the contract itself has been strained and that you and the legate have fallen out.”

All the air left Kurt’s chest in shock, and Torsten smirked at having caught him out with such a reaction. “W-what? N-no, sir, I’m committed to my commission!” Kurt protested, head spinning at this turn of the conversation. Of course Torsten had heard about his problems in Hikmet, since it had been the talk of the barracks that De Sardet had kicked Kurt to the side of the road. Plus, Dieter was in Torsten’s direct reporting line. Kurt now also understood the strange looks he’d been receiving from the soldiers at the palace, like they pitied him a difficult assignment. They all thought he was still estranged from De Sardet, which meant his secrets remained his own. He almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“No need to worry, Kurt.” Torsten chuckled, like he was in on some joke. “I had thought as much. Dealing with the nobility always has its—” He wrinkled his nose as he searched for the word. “Indignities. But no longer.”

“Sir?” Kurt asked, frowning in confusion. But, Torsten raised his voice and called, “Ludger!”

The door opened on cue, and three people strode in, shutting and locking the door behind them. Torsten’s three lieutenants, Ludger, Olga, and Werner. Each stood at parade rest, but excitement glinted in each of their eyes. Kurt’s attention bounced warily between them and the commander. This was the same energy he had sensed downstairs, that feeling of anticipation before a battle.

Torsten leaned forward on his desk, crossing his arms before him. “Kurt, we’ve got new orders for you.”

ooXXoo

Kurt marched toward the palace, a small company of men at his back, and felt like he was going to vomit. Events had occurred so quickly since his arrival at the barracks that he now had the span of a brisk walk to decide what he was going to do.

His new orders were quite clear, and in the past, that had simply been enough. The commander had ordered Kurt to infiltrate the New Serene palace and before Constantin or De Sardet knew what was afoot, assassinate them both. Quite a departure from the primary directive that had governed Kurt’s life for the past fifteen years to protect the cousins at all costs. His stomach churned while his thoughts spun.

Following orders was the central tenet of his life. It was the code that he had taught new recruits for many years himself. Following orders saved lives, his own, his brothers and sisters in arms. It was how the Coin Guard operated amid multiple contracts and arrangements.

Could he do this? Could he hurt his own charges? Could he hurt _her_?

Time stuttered for a moment, and his steps faltered because the answer was perfectly clear.

No. He couldn’t. And he wouldn’t. He had known for some time that this was no longer about the contract for him.

He took his first full breath since he had entered Torsten’s office.

So where did that leave him?

Well, he was leading soldiers to kill her. That wasn’t good. Plus, he didn’t even know exactly where she was. She must have gone to see Admiral Cabral hours ago. Had she gone back to the residence? To the palace to debrief with Constantin? Torsten said that she had been spotted hurrying to the palace with the Naut and the bishop trying to keep up. Kurt hoped that meant she was with Constantin when he finally found them. If he couldn’t talk to the two of them together, he risked a misunderstanding that could lead to bloodshed. Hell, he risked that even once he did explain. His burgeoning friendship with De Sardet might not survive a betrayal of this magnitude.

He set all that aside as he neared the large double doors to the palace, his focus narrowing to the location of every soldier, every civilian, and mentally reviewed all possible entrances and exits. He split his company into small contingents in an attempt to divide their effectiveness and told them to wait for the fighting to begin before they did anything. That would give him a little time.

He took the grand staircase two steps at a time and then paused before the doors into the main hall. There was a concentration of soldiers milling just outside the doors, including those he knew were assigned to Constantin’s person. “Soldiers, report! Why aren’t you inside covering the governor?” he demanded, only belatedly noting Petrus and Vasco standing off to one side.

“She sent us out!” one guard protested. It was the one who had mistakenly pitied him for his seemingly rocky relationship with the legate. The others nodded.

“She?” Kurt clarified, trying not to hope.

“Lady De Sardet.”

Kurt’s spirits soared. That made things a lot easier. “Is she still in there?” He glanced over at Vasco, who nodded.

“I-I-I think so,” the guard stammered. “She ordered us to leave when the governor . . . When he . . .” The man eyed the other soldiers uncertainly.

“When the governor what? Eyes on me, soldier!”

“The governor became distraught, Captain. It seems he . . . He has the Malichor.”

Kurt swore. No, not that. “Are you sure?”

“Not exactly. It all happened so quickly before she told us to go.”

Kurt spun toward Vasco and Petrus with a questioning look.

“I’m afraid so, my son,” Petrus said, his tone regretful.

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose. Dammit. Not Constantin. First her mother, now this. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t be derailed by this now. “All right. I’m going in.” Kurt yanked at the door, but found it locked. He tried it again, but then there was an audible click and De Sardet was pulling it open.

“Kurt!” she exclaimed, sounding surprised, almost relieved, but there was also something else he couldn’t quite understand. Her eyes were overly bright and her cheeks flushed.

First, he had to get her and Constantin alone.

He strode past her with barely a glance, followed tentatively by the palace guards and the remaining three soldiers from his company. He approached Constantin, who sat on his throne.

“Kurt? What is . . .” Constantin began, but Kurt cut him off.

“Dismissed, soldiers!” Kurt ordered in a loud voice. “Leave us. We have much to discuss.” The soldiers looked at each other in further confusion and then turned and left the room again, leaving Kurt alone with Constantin, Vasco, Petrus. And De Sardet.

“What is going on?” Constantin continued to complain in his effete tone of voice. “I don’t appreciate this attitude, Kurt. Might I remind you that these men all answer to me.” Kurt’s temper flared as Constantin’s imperious attitude suddenly annoyed him. The only power the foolish aristocrat had was what the Coin Guard had given him. Without it, he was a petulant child shaking a wooden sword at the sea.

“Times change, your Highness,” Kurt announced, approaching the throne. “Or rather, they are about to do so.”

“Is that a threat?” Constantin asked, stumbling to his feet so he could face Kurt directly. “What are you hoping to accomplish? Don’t tell me . . .”

Kurt stopped just short of the governor, giving full rein to his bitterness at the situation. “Silence,” Kurt commanded, staring Constantin down until he retreated a step. “We have little time and none to lose.”

But then, De Sardet was there, her soft voice breaking through his armor. “Kurt, what are you talking about?”

“The commander of the Coin Guard is here in New Serene at this very moment. He is preparing a coup d’etat. In the three cities of the island, our men are going to eliminate the governors and their entourage.”

“This is madness,” Constantin sputtered. “How . . .?”

“How?” Kurt said disdainfully. “You’ll go down as easy as plum pie and cherry wine. Standing behind every one of you is one of our men. You have entrusted us with your security. You are completely at our mercy.”

“Then why did you send your men away? And why are you telling us all of this?” Constantin asked, finally sounding uncertain instead of arrogant, and Kurt’s ire started to retreat. Ire that he shouldn’t be taking out on Constantin anyway.

Kurt took a deep breath. “I’ve known you both for a very long time. Too long. I’ve come to know you, to respect you.” He glanced at De Sardet and instantly regretted it. The hurt that shone from her eyes cut him to the bone. He looked away, burying his emotions, and tapped back into cynical logic. “And I’ve never reneged on a contract,” he added. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw De Sardet grimace in disgust, cross her arms and look away.

Kurt took another deep breath, letting it out slowly. “These orders go against all that I am.” He kept his eyes trained on Constantin, but Kurt found himself trying to explain to her. “A cold-hearted mercenary, definitely, but never a traitor.” He risked another side-long glance at De Sardet, and although her eyes glistened with angry tears, she listened. “And now you are forewarned. You must take action.”

“Thank you, Kurt,” she said haltingly. “I will not forget this.” That sounded a bit ominous, but he probably deserved it. She turned back to Constantin, her whole attention now on him. “Constantin, we need to get you to safety as well as your councilors.” She started to issue orders for shepherding her cousin to a safe, defensible place in the cellar, along with his advisors, and to get a message to the other governors about the betrayal. Finally, she turned back to Kurt, her eyes now dry, cold and calculating. “Do you know where your conspirators are?”

He swallowed. “It would seem, I should be one of them.” Her eyes flared with anger again. “They are counting on me to eliminate both of you.” Her mouth flattened to a thin line, like she didn’t trust herself to speak. He just kept talking, trying to make it right, sharing what he knew of the location of the commander and his lieutenants, how they might still prevent the takeover. “The others are doing nothing but following orders. If we cut off the heads, they will fall into rank.”

She stared at him, silent but seething, her jaw set in anger, and he could only gaze back, accepting her rancor since he had earned it. The silence drew out and he wished that he could take her aside and explain privately what this was costing him and how sorry he was. Finally, Constantin interrupted the moment, as usual trying to put a happy face on the tragedy in his foppish way. “I always knew you were a . . . good man,” he said.

Kurt held De Sardet’s gaze a moment longer, and then turned to Constantin. “Don’t make me change my mind,” he growled. “We had better be off. Now.” He glanced one last time at De Sardet, who merely glared at him again before taking charge and leading Constantin from the hall toward the grand stair.


	5. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the messy aftermath of the failed coup d’etat, Kurt enlists a now wary De Sardet to help him deal with a painful loose end.

Hours later, or was that days later, Kurt was wearily tramping back up the grand stair at the New Serene palace. The moon was rising in the distance as the nighttime sounds of New Serene began their symphony, and the townsfolk continued to go about their business in complete ignorance of the political upheaval that had just been thwarted.

Torsten had been apprehended, along with some of his key officers, at least those who had survived. Many of the guard had surrendered once they realized that the coup had failed and that the rank and file would not be held accountable if they abandoned orders like Kurt had done. He hoped that they would experience fewer consequences than he saw in his own future.

He glanced ahead to where De Sardet walked before him, her shoulders also slumped in weariness that echoed his own. She had said very little to him that wasn’t a direct order during their efforts to track down the leaders of the conspiracy. There was perhaps one point where he might have seen her animosity thaw briefly, when they had discovered that Torsten had fled the botched results of his coup.

It was after they had stopped Torsten’s lieutenants and had headed to the commander’s office only to find it abandoned. They briefly searched his desk and Kurt found a hasty note that suggested the villain was trying to escape by ship.

“A ship?” she said, after listening to Kurt read the note aloud. “That took some planning.”

“It seems Torsten suspected that I would denounce him and he was prepared to leave this place.” Kurt started to swear again in frustration, clenching his fist. “We must catch up to him. He cannot get away with this! Torsten is a snake, but he is clever. Apparently, he suspected that I would refuse to follow his orders.”

She eyed him and her expression softened for the first time since the whole ordeal had started. “He must have been told about our attack on the ghost camp, and drew his own conclusions. _He_ knew you better than you thought he did.” Her bitterness had crept back in with the last. Was she suggesting that she didn’t know him?

Kurt gritted his teeth. He didn’t have time for this. “Apparently. Come! Before he gets away!” He took off at a sprint, and De Sardet and Vasco tried to keep up. They barreled down the stairs and toward the front entry to the barracks. Kurt was through the door a few paces in front of De Sardet when a hot explosion of pain hit his upper arm and agony throbbed through his whole body. He dove for cover. Another shot flew over his head a second later.

“Kurt!” De Sardet cried in alarm.

Commander Torsten grinned and holstered his firearm, drawing his blade as he closed on Kurt. “And so, these snake oil merchants defy us by sending their watchdog. Let’s show them what guards are really made of.”

The fight had been short and brutal. Kurt’s arm was near useless except for steadying his two-hander and pulsed with searing shards of pain at every movement. In the end, he had needed De Sardet to finish Torsten, who now sat rotting in the Coin Guard jail awaiting trial.

Kurt felt another ray of hope when De Sardet initially seemed concerned over his wound, taking some time to examine it and confirm that the ball had passed completely through the meat of his arm. But then she had tied up a bandage around it and jerked it so tightly that he saw stars for a moment from the pain and Vasco gave him a look of sympathy.

She hadn’t spoken to him since.

They dragged themselves up the palace grand stairs and into the great hall, and Constantin smiled bravely at them despite his sickly appearance that had advanced since they had last seen him. The Malichor had indeed taken him for its own, as the telltale dark veins had begun to twist across his face.

“Constantin,” said De Sardet, “I thought you would like to know that the Coin Guard’s attempt to take control of the island has failed.”

“This is excellent news. The kind I’ve not had in a great while!” Constantin turned to Kurt. “Thank you, Kurt. Were it not for your loyalty, we were lost. As for you my fair cousin . . . Ah! you know what I owe you!”

She assured Constantin that the culprits had been caught, and he once again thanked Kurt, which was starting to become awkward. Gratitude wasn’t something he was used to. Coin, on the other hand, was something Kurt understood. “If your highness is looking for a means to translate his gratitude,” he said, trying to lighten the conversation, “gold is a present that is always appreciated.”

But as soon as he said it, De Sardet’s eyes turned frosty with contempt. When he turned back to Constantin, the governor was asking him about naming a new commander and then added on more compliments that made Kurt squirm. “You have my complete trust, Kurt,” Constantin enthused. “You have amply earned it.”

Kurt glanced at De Sardet again without thinking, but she avoided his gaze, almost like they were complete strangers once again.

ooXXoo

The walk back to the residence was quiet. De Sardet remained wrapped in her own thoughts, not speaking to anyone, which cast a pall over all conversation. When they arrived home, she immediately went upstairs without a backward glance. Kurt, Petrus and Vasco watched her go in concern. 

Vasco cleared his throat. “Um, if you like, I could help you dress that wound,” he offered to Kurt. “I know it’s hard to do one handed.”

Kurt was about to demur, but then laughed without humor. “You’re right. I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

“I’ll go get some water and clean bandages,” Vasco said, and headed toward the kitchen.

Kurt moved down the hall to his room and did his best to remove his armor with one useable hand. He had gotten pretty far by the time Vasco returned and helped him with the rest. “This isn’t too bad,” Vasco said bracingly, cutting through the makeshift dressing De Sardet had applied. Once the bandage loosened, Kurt couldn’t hold back the groan as the blood rushed back into his arm. He promptly started bleeding again.

Vasco initially worked in silence. “De Sardet is still quite angry with you,” he said at last, stating the obvious.

“I’m not sure I blame her,” Kurt said. “The Guard betrayed her. And Constantin.”

“Hmm,” was all Vasco said at first. He had finished cleaning the wound and was now wrapping a new bandage around it, considerably more gently than De Sardet had. “As a point of order, though, Kurt, you didn’t betray her. And you never would. I think you might want to remind her of that. She’s quite shaken after the events of today. Uncertain who to trust. Uncertain of who she is. She’s lost her moorings. And one of those moorings was you.”

Kurt frowned at this. “She doesn’t want to talk to me. She won’t even look at me.”

“Look, all I will say is, more happened today than you know. You should talk to her.”

Kurt snapped his head around, narrowing his eyes at Vasco. “What happened? Something with Admiral Cabral? What did you learn?”

“You should talk to her,” Vasco reiterated as he stood to go. “And, now you’re good as new.” With that, Vasco chucked Kurt in his hurt shoulder, eliciting from him a hiss of pain, and left the room.

ooXXoo

Kurt lay in bed that night trying in vain to sleep despite the throbbing in his shoulder every time he moved. He would start to doze off, shift to put his hands behind his head, and the pain would wake him again. Once he was awake, he would start to ruminate again about the coup. Then his eyes would flip open to watch the ceiling, where he heard nothing. Which was good, of course, because he wanted her to sleep. 

Eventually, he must have drifted off again. He woke sometime later to the sound of creaking. He blinked up at the ceiling for a while before he realized, with no little disappointment, that his room was bright as day and the sounds he heard were the whole household waking, not De Sardet. He closed his eyes again.

When he finally emerged from his room, breakfast was over and De Sardet was gone. According to Petrus, Siora and Aphra had accompanied De Sardet to the palace to see Constantin. Kurt lingered over breakfast and then decided to visit the barracks to consult with Sieglinde about the aftermath of Torsten’s coup.

Sieglinde had already called in the remaining loyalist officers, who were all crowded into the large training room. She waved at Kurt and then continued their meeting. A few hours later, the group had unanimously elected Sieglinde to be their new commander, a much overdue honor. As the meeting dispersed, she asked Kurt to join her as she walked upstairs toward Torsten’s former office

“Congratulations,” Kurt said as he fell in beside her. “They made the right choice.”

“I believe I should be thanking you for my nomination?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“It is your upright and honorable nature that won you this post. Not I.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Perhaps some time in the future you will curse me for having suggested your name.”

“I hope not.” They had reached the office. She opened the door slowly, taking in the room for a moment before walking decisively to the desk and sitting down behind it. She started to tidy the papers on the desk and glanced up at him. “How’s the arm?” she asked.

He wondered at how she knew but then saw that the bleeding had broken through his bandage and now his shirt. He sighed. “Coming along. Torsten winged me with his pistol.”

“You’re getting slow, Kurt.” She smiled to soften her criticism. “But you did well. You and that legate of yours. I’m actually surprised she didn’t accompany you. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you on your own since the continent.”

“She’s at the palace with her cousin.”

He had tried to keep his tone even, but somehow Sieglinde still tilted her head at him in puzzlement. “Did Torsten’s break your relationship with your lady as well?”

“She’s not my lady,” he mumbled.

“She is in almost every sense of the word, Kurt. I hope she knows that none of what happened was your fault? I hope you know that, too. I heard the governor has given you an official commendation.”

Desperate to change the subject, he said, “Are there still conspirators being rounded up?”

Her eyes softened slightly, which was her only acknowledgment of his dodge. “There are,” she replied readily. “Now that the coup has failed, many tongues are wagging and fingers pointing. But it’s been difficult to sort through who was truly part of the conspiracy and who was merely following orders, which they all now claim.”

“Torsten and his tangled webs.” Kurt sighed. “If only I had had a chance to share our suspicions about him with the governor, perhaps this would never have happened.”

“Kurt, no one would’ve thought that Torsten would be willing to go this far. Including me.”

“True. Even with what we found at that phantom training camp, the hints that they were sending their brainwashed recruits to the governors’ courts, I didn’t expect a plot of this scale.” Kurt scratched his jaw thoughtfully. “Which reminds me, with all the finger pointing after the coup, any fingers pointing toward . . . toward Major Hermann?”

“Hermann?” she said in some surprise. “No. Why?”

“We found a document at that ghost training camp. A letter. Signed by Hermann.” He set his jaw, clenching his teeth. “He was behind that new camp, Sieglinde. He was behind it all.”

“Ah, Kurt,” she said. Her face fell with sympathy and regret. “Are you sure?” He gave her a tight nod. “I see. So. This is personal now.” Her brow wrinkled in concern. “When will this story be finished?”

Sieglinde was one of the few people who knew his whole story with Hermann. How it had taken Kurt years to be able to sleep through the night after leaving that training camp. He had thought the story was finished, but these latest episodes merely showed him that it was a wound that still had not fully healed. Perhaps he had never left that training camp.

Sieglinde was pensive for a moment, and then said thoughtfully, “I could court martial him, but you know how much certain people support him. And the Guard is vulnerable right now.”

“I know. Everyone loves the heroic major!” he said with a sneer that was as disdainful of Hermann as of himself. “But I can’t let him get away with it again.”

She nodded. “Last I heard, he was stationed with the Red Sun in San Mateus. But nothing recent.”

“I’m sure he’s slipped back into the shadows, like the cockroach he is.” Kurt walked over to the window, which looked out over the river.

“What will you do?” she asked quietly.

He crossed his arms across his chest, barely feeling the pull on his gunshot wound. “What you do with cockroaches. Crush them underfoot.”

“I hope you’ll take De Sardet with you.”

He turned in surprise at her suggestion. “This could be a messy business, Sieglinde. I can’t involve the law. Not with all the damage Hermann could cause the Guard.”

“I didn’t say bring the law. I said bring De Sardet.”

He shook his head vehemently. “I’ve already involved her too much.”

Sieglinde sighed. “Kurt, perhaps she needs to be involved more. Perhaps she needs to be reminded just who the victims are here, and who the real villains are.” There was an edge to Sieglinde’s words that sounded uncharacteristically like a criticism of the legate. He frowned, feeling the automatic need to defend De Sardet, but Sieglinde added, “Besides, you will need back up. And I can’t leave New Serene right now.”

He bared his teeth in an uncomfortable smile. “Thank you, Sieglinde. You know I appreciate your support.”

“Well, you have it. But Kurt, promise me that, once you’ve confronted Hermann, you’ll stop seeking vengeance after this.”

He inclined his head. “You have my word.”

“Good. And, Kurt, I also think it’s time that that legate protected your back for once.”

Kurt raised his eyebrows. Sieglinde’s words were eerily similar to something De Sardet had said herself recently. He would have to chew on that thought.

ooXXoo

Kurt walked slowly back to the residence, deep in thought after his conversation with Sieglinde. He had buried his feelings deeply enough to ignore them since discovering that letter with Hermann’s signature. But now they were bursting out into the open, demanding attention. He had to do something, anything, and move forward somehow. Could this be his chance to finally put Hermann down and move on?

He automatically doffed his hat upon crossing the residence vestibule and headed to his room without really noting his surroundings. But then he turned a corner and almost ran right into De Sardet.

They stood blinking in surprise at each other. He immediately noted the dark circles under her eyes, which had grown more pronounced again.

“G-green Blood!” he stammered, falling back upon his old patterns. “I-it’s good to see you.”

She broke eye contact and nodded dumbly.

Aphra and Siora had trailed behind her and now shot apprehensive looks between De Sardet and him. Aphra opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, pressing her lips into a tight line. De Sardet moved past him with her head down.

He bit the inside of his cheek and then called, “Could I talk to you about something, Excellency?”

She slowly turned back around and his heart sank when he could tell that she wanted to deny him. “All right,” she said grudgingly and looked up at him expectantly.

“Um. In private?”

“Oh.” She glanced at the two women flanking her, but they both broke into a chorus of assurances that they needed to go and backed out of the room. Once they were gone, she turned back, practically tapping her foot in impatience. “I’m listening.”

She sounded so hostile that he was tongue tied and almost decided against confiding in her. “Remember that note we found in Rolf’s office?”

The area around her eyes relaxed. “Of course. The one that said that the recruits had been sent to different governors?” She looked away, her lips twisting bitterly. “Another sign we missed.”

“Yes. That’s the one. There was . . . something else.”

She waited for him to continue, watching him closely with eyes narrowed in curiosity.

“It . . . It was signed with a name I am familiar with.” He hadn’t expected it to be so hard to talk about the man with her. He set his jaw and took a deep breath through his nose.

“I’m listening,” she repeated far more gently this time, coaxing him to speak. The hostility had left her frame and she was leaning in slightly to hear him.

“Hermann,” he finally gritted out. “Somebody I’d hoped to never cross paths with again. He . . . He was the one who founded the camp we closed.”

“I see,” was all she said. The compassion and understanding suddenly dawning in her eyes were almost too much.

“Believe me,” Kurt said gruffly and barreled on, “he has done an incredible amount of damage to the Guard. He’s somewhere in San Mateus. I’m going to find him and make him pay for what he’s done.”

She nodded thoughtfully, seeing too much. “This quest for revenge isn’t only about Reiner and the others, is it?”

“Will you help me?” he countered, holding his breath for her answer, which was slower in coming than he would have expected.

She sighed. “Very well, you can count on me. What do you plan to do?”

The tension that was holding him up released and his shoulders relaxed a little. He hadn’t thought much past convincing her to come with him. “I’m still working on a plan,” he admitted.

“If Hermann is responsible for the ghost camp, isn’t denouncing him enough?”

“He is loyal to Torsten, but kept his head down when the coup was dismantled.”

“Then he’ll be put to death for high treason. Let’s let the Guard do their job.” Bitterness crept into her voice and Kurt knew he had to step carefully.

“The Guard’s reputation has suffered enough from Torsten’s scheming.” He risked a look in her eyes. Anger still simmered there, but she held it in check.

“What does your new commander say about all this? Have you selected one yet?”

“Yes, we’ve just elected Sieglinde, as I expected.”

“Good choice. And?”

“And?”

She exhaled sharply in exasperation. “And what does she say about this revenge quest of yours?”

He set his jaw and looked away. “Sieglinde understands that I need to deal with this in my own way.”

“What are you getting at, Kurt?” she asked softly. “Are you going to kill him yourself?”

“I won’t let him hurt anyone else.”

“All right then. We need a plan.” De Sardet stood a little taller, like she had decided for now to set aside the pain she’d been carrying around the past few days. She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “But I think we’re going to need some more help. Let’s go talk to the others and see if we can devise a plan together. If that’s all right with you?”

He nodded jerkily, just relieved she was going to help, with or without the others. Sieglinde had been right about involving De Sardet. If it gave her a purpose beside dwelling on the coup and the Guard’s betrayal, then it would be worth it.

Their challenge was that Hermann was well connected in San Mateus, which meant that there was a chance they might run afoul of the Mother Cardinal if it became known that they were after a high-ranking member of the Red Sun regiment. But Petrus came up with a clever way around that.

“We should get rid of your major in broad daylight,” the bishop mused as they sat brainstorming around the dining room table that evening. He swirled the ruby red wine in the glass in his hand.

“What kind of twisted scheme have you come up with now, old fox?” Kurt asked, knowing Petrus’s idea would be as depraved as it was clever.

“We need to ensure that he falls into the hands of the Ordo Luminis,” he said, gesturing with his free hand. “They love burning people at the stake! And they don’t care too much who ends up in the flames.”

Siora gasped at the idea and turned slightly green, no doubt remembering the first burning they had witnessed of one of her countrymen. “You . . . You want to have him burned as a heretic? That’s barbaric!”

“If he had been caught as Torsten’s accomplice, he would have been drawn and quartered,” Kurt countered. “Do you think that’s any less painful?”

De Sardet patted Siora’s hand comfortingly, and said to the group, “But, why would the inquisitor help? He isn’t very fond of us after all the times we’ve crossed him. I doubt we’d be able to convince him.”

“Hmm, haven’t I taught you anything, my child?” Petrus smiled evilly. “Every man has his weaknesses, including Aloysius. I could help you convince him if you like.”

The thought of Hermann burning at the stake was repugnant and yet satisfying at the same time. Importantly, it would avoid any blame pointing their way or at the Guard. That was good enough for Kurt. “I hate those burnings,” Kurt said. “But Hermann? He may be the only one who really deserves it. Let’s do it.”

After dinner, Kurt again visited Sieglinde to secure her support on the ground from the Guard in San Mateus. Although she had paled at hearing their plan to have Hermann burned as a heretic, she still saw the justice in it. She gave him her blessing, but in return reminded him of his promise.

With everything set, he returned home to a residence that was dark and quiet as everyone had since retired. Kurt followed their example, and after his previous sleepless night, quickly drifted off to sleep.


	6. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and De Sardet finally talk about the issues that have been boiling under the surface of their rocky relationship since the coup.  
> TW: Implications of past abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this!

A creak of floorboards, a rustle of bed clothes, a brush against his shoulder, and then Kurt exploded up in terror. He body checked his assailant who hit the wall with an audible thud and then landed on the floor among the shadows, the air whooshing from their lungs upon impact. Before the mysterious figure on the floor could recover, Kurt grabbed a knife from his sword belt on the nearby chair and jumped atop him, letting gravity help drive the blade down in a deadly arc. The shadowy figure raised a forearm just in time, fending off the killing blow with a grunt, but Kurt did not relent and soon they were locked in a battle of strength, forearm to forearm, as Kurt muscled his blade downward toward his assailant’s unprotected neck.

Kurt’s breath was ragged and loud in his own ears. “Never again,” he muttered through clenched teeth as he pushed the blade down with all his strength. The other man’s forearm slowly started to give way, sinking lower and lower as the blade inched closer to its target. 

“Kurt,” the figure gasped. “Kurt! It’s me! Fiona!”

The words made no sense. Kurt just needed one last burst of strength. He placed the heel of his palm on the pommel of the dagger and applied all his weight to push the blade the final few inches. His injured arm burned at the abuse.

“Kurt! _Please!_ ”

He blinked, the _please_ finally registering. “Fiona?” he whispered soundlessly, like a talisman to bring him back to the present. He let his arm go slack and she pushed it away, panting. He could feel her lungs working where his knees were planted on either side of her torso. 

Unable to fully let go of the terror until he was certain, he reached up to the bedside table and turned up the oil lamp. Within the yellow pool of light, he finally could see that it was indeed Fiona De Sardet, laying sprawled on her back underneath him, her eyes wide and darkened with fear. Her blue dressing gown had come undone in their tussle, and his eyes became fixed on the rapid rise and fall of her breasts that were no longer quite covered by the flimsy yellow nightgown she wore under the dark robe. Then a splash of bright red captured his entire attention as blood well up at her collarbone. He went cold.

“Fiona,” he groaned in a scratchy, anguished voice that sounded nothing like him. “Forgive me.” He dropped the knife with a clatter and pressed his hand against the cut to staunch the bleeding.

“What? What is it?” she said, trying unsuccessfully to look down underneath her own chin.

“I’m so, so sorry. I’ve broken my oath and harmed you.” His throat felt raw, like he’d been shouting or running hard. He kept his hand held firmly against her clavicle. He wasn’t sure how bad it was, but he wasn’t willing to let up the pressure to find out. He could only sit there, still straddling her narrow torso, his palm pressed against her warm skin, his long fingers reaching into her décolletage, while her breathing started to even out.

“Kurt, I’m fine. Really. You didn’t hurt me.”

“You’re bleeding,” he gritted.

“I hardly felt it.” She covered his hand with her own. “Kurt? Kurt?” She may have repeated his name a few more times, but finally he looked at her. Her eyes had brightened, the fear gone. “Kurt, you did not hurt me. I should not have startled you. You did not hurt me. I am fine.”

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, still unable to let go.

“No, it’s my fault.” She dropped her head back against the floor in boneless relief and just breathed for a moment, her chest still rising and falling quickly. Now that he could look away from the hurt he had caused, he could feel her heart racing against his palm. He would have slipped his hand away if she wasn’t holding it so securely.

“I heard you talking in your sleep,” she said. “You sounded upset. I meant to wake you. Not make it worse.”

He swallowed. He couldn’t remember much of the nightmare, except that it had involved a creaking door. But he didn’t need to remember, because he knew the dream too well despite the many intervening years since it had haunted his sleep. “I’m sorry I attacked you.”

“I know I shouldn’t have come in when you didn’t answer my knock. I wanted to be the one to spare _you_ from a bad dream this time,” she said. She studied him. “Or, I assume it was bad. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He yanked his hand away from hers and scrambled to his feet. After a moment his manners kicked back in and he reached down to offer her a hand up. She took it with a brief smile and then started to adjust her clothing so that her dressing gown was shut tight again, hiding the cut he had inflicted.

Once she had righted her clothing, she still continued to tug and adjust it for a moment. When there was nothing left for her hands to do, she began to wring them together while she regarded him. He could feel her unspoken questions, but also the slow return of her anger.

The silence lengthened and with it, the distance between them.

Was it really just a few short days ago that he had teased her about planning to sleep badly on purpose so that they could have one of their late-night meetings? So much had happened in those few days.

He cleared his throat. “So, did you need something, Excellency?” he asked, his voice still sounding gravelly.

“No, not exactly. I . . .” She wet her lip and sighed. “Kurt, I can’t stand this!” she finally burst out. “I hate what’s happening between us right now. And I’m tired of being angry. And I’m not even sure why I’m angry any more, except that . . .” She spun around and started to pace away from him, automatically falling into her three-point pattern.

He just watched, knowing that once she had taken a few more turns and worked out her next thoughts, she would continue. His heart rate was only now returning to normal. Both the dream and the subsequent fight had spiked his adrenaline, and now he felt chilled as it ebbed away and the panicked sweat covering his bare torso dried.

Finally, she ground to a halt and turned back to him. “Every time I think about the coup, how the Guard failed us and betrayed us, all I can see is you! You! Barging into the great hall like you owned it, like—like one of them, ready to take over the island and throw down Constantin.” She choked up and spun away from him, wrapping her arms around herself in that way that always seemed more about self-comfort than staving off the cold.

Kurt sighed, a deep body weary sigh. This was it. What could he say? He sank down on the edge of his bed, resting his arms on his thighs, suddenly unable to hold himself up against her charges.

She spun back to him, her expression transformed from hopeless to angry again, her arms still wrapped tightly. “Did you know? Did you know this was Torsten’s plan? Is that why you left me on my own to go see Admiral Cabral?” Her voice caught again on the words _on my own,_ like a knife twisting in his heart. Finally, he remembered Vasco’s words about how something else had happened that day, something he had missed.

“What did the Admiral say? Was it what you had hoped?” Kurt asked, frowning in concern.

Angry tears welled in her eyes as she glared at him. “No! No, it wasn’t! But don’t change the subject!” She dropped her hands to clench at her sides and took an aggressive step forward. “Did you know?” she demanded, pausing between each word. 

He shot to his feet. “No, I did not!” he all but shouted. “It seems Torsten waited until the last possible moment to tell me anything, unsure of my loyalties. Not that I blame him. He may only have recruited me into his plot because he thought that you and I had fallen out!”

“But he did recruit you then!” She pointed an accusatory finger at him.

Kurt sighed and the anger drained out of him. He paced away from the dim circle of light in which she stood. “He tried. And if I had been following my duty, aye, I would’ve followed my orders.”

He looked back at her and wished he hadn’t. She had paled, her expression crumpled in sorrow, and the tears had finally escaped. “You—you would’ve . . .?”

He rushed back to her side and impulsively took her listless hand in both of his own. “But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’ve never disobeyed an order until that day. But Torsten was wrong. His coup went against everything the Guard stands for. Everything that I believe in.”

She swallowed with some difficulty. “Gold. I suppose. That’s what you believe in,” she said barely above a whisper.

“No. No, I-I say that sometimes—well, frequently—but what I believe in is honor. And loyalty. Our contract is our oath, and a man is only as good as his word.” He wasn’t sure she was even listening as she avoided looking at him. “Fiona.” She still looked away. “Fiona, look at me,” he commanded, using a tone he would never normally employ with her. At last she complied, more startled than anything else.

“Fiona, I could never betray you. Never.”

“Because I pay you,” she said out of bloodless lips.

“No,” he said, clenching his teeth in frustration. He squeezed the hand he held, but she did not respond. “Because I’m committed to you. Our bond goes beyond the gold the Prince pays me. Beyond-beyond any other contract I’ve had. And I don’t break my bond.”

She seemed to be listening as her free hand crept up to her chest, grasping at her dressing gown above her heart. Above the cut from his knife.

“I would never have betrayed you to Torsten for all the gold in the world,” he declared.

The hand that he held twitched in his grip. “Truly?” she asked.

His heart soared. “Truly.” Without thinking, he drew her hand to his lips and pressed them to her knuckles.

Her eyes rose to his, hopeful but still wary. He kept hold of her hand, rubbing the back with his thumb as he hurried on to say, “But luckily, Torsten didn’t know that. So he brought me into his plans just in time to warn you and Constantin to take action.”

“So you had no idea when you left me for his summons that day?” she asked, coming back to her initial, very specific point.

He shook his head. “No idea. I genuinely wished to accompany you to see the admiral. I still wish I had been there with you.”

These words had a strange effect on her, as her face fell again and the tears started to stream. “I do, too,” she said in a watery warble that turned into a sob as she started to cry.

After a moment’s surprise, he pulled her into his arms and held her, letting her weep softly against his chest. When the weeping intensified, he laid his head atop hers and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, pressed his lips to her hair. She sobbed as if her heart were truly breaking and he couldn’t tell the cause. Had he irrevocably broken their trust, or was this somehow part of what Vasco had been alluding to? He didn’t know, so he just let her cry.

When she finally started to quiet, he was ready to let go, but she did not pull back right away, pressing one of her hands flat against his chest over his heart. She sniffed a little and then slowly stepped away. “Could I borrow a handkerchief?” she asked with a little laugh. “I think I’ve drenched you.”

He grabbed one, the only one he owned so he was grateful it was clean, and handed it over. But before mopping her own face, she pressed it against his shoulder where she had washed it with her tears. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he protested, pushing her hands away. Only then did she dry her eyes and blow her nose.

“Thank you,” she said. Her eyes and nose were both reddened from the crying, but when she looked up at him again with warmth, she had never looked more beautiful to him.

“My pleasure, fair lady.” He was even more curious now to understand, since something clearly wasn’t right. “So, what _would_ I have heard, if I’d been with you that day?”

She sighed. “Well, most was what we’d expected. The Nauts had indeed brought colonists to the island previously. Us. The Congregation of Merchants tried to colonize the island two hundred years ago, but the islanders — the island itself — seemed to rebel against their cruelty. The Nauts had pledged to keep the failure a secret, but eventually sold the island’s location to other nations, which is why we’re here again today.”

She stopped, so he prompted, “There must be something else.”

“Yes.” She hesitated again before continuing. “Apparently, the Congregation has continued to send expeditions here from time to time. And . . . apparently, um, my mother was captured during one of these.” She cast him a furtive glance from beneath her lashes as if to gauge his reaction.

“Your mother . . . captured?” He shook his head, hoping it might help him make sense of her implication. “But your mother . . . Wait, so she isn’t . . .?” 

Fiona sighed. “Precisely. My actual mother was an islander from Teer Fradee. My . . . The De Sardet family adopted me and hid the truth. Even from me.” She lifted her chin to look him in the eye and he could see her bravery start to quail. “So, it seems that I look like one of the islanders because I am one.”

His head spun at this revelation. The mysterious mark that had graced her face since he’d met her at age ten had become far less mysterious once they had met others here on the island with the same mark. But why she might have a connection to them had remained a puzzle. Until now.

“Ah, I am sorry. I promise you that I knew nothing of it. And, as far as I’m concerned, this changes nothing!”

“Doesn’t it?” she asked, her voice cracking. “The fact that I’m not really a De Sardet? And isn’t that who your contract is with?”

“Of course not. My contract is to protect you, Green Blood, no matter what your name might be or from where your blood might hail. You.” He pressed two fingers to her chest briefly. “None of the rest of that matters. I will keep watching over you! And, I’m certainly the last person to care about titles and nobility.”

“Well, you’re one of the few,” she said with a disconsolate sniff.

He knit his brows. “Don’t tell me that Constantin would care about something like this?” If so, Kurt was going to have a word with his former charge, governor or not.

“No, no. He was lovely. He told me that he would always consider me his cousin, but also to keep it a secret. Because the court will care. Emphatically.”

“The vultures. But, he’s probably right.”

“Anyway.” She shrugged. “The rest you know. I went straight to the palace to talk to Constantin. Oh, and then I found out he has the Malichor.” She laughed bitterly. “That’s where you found us.”

“So what you’re really saying is,” he said, trying to coax a smile from her, “that I missed a lot that day?”

He was rewarded with a very watery but valiant attempt to smile back. “You could say that.”

“Well,” he said, holding his hand over his heart, “I am more sorry than words can say that I wasn’t there to share this burden with you. Just as I’m sorry for any part I may have contributed to the coup, to upsetting you, to fostering Torsten’s confidence that he could succeed.”

“No, don’t apologize, Kurt. Without you, we would have been lost. I won’t have you apologizing for them.”

“Then let me just apologize for myself,” he said, drawing closer to her until he was a mere step away. “I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to warn you sooner than storming the great hall with the Guard at my back.” He gave her a lopsided smile, but then got serious again. “And I’m sorry for hurting you tonight. That was inexcusable.”

“Kurt, it was nothing,” she said, but her words died off as he reached out to the top of her dressing gown and peeled it open until he could see the cut from his knife. It wasn’t deep and had stopped bleeding. He was relieved. He had given her worse during her training, but never before in an actual attempt to kill her. 

“It’s not bad, but we should get it cleaned up,” he said. It wasn’t until he looked up again and took in her heightened color and parted lips, that he realized he’d crossed a line. A line that didn’t used to exist when he was bandaging skinned knees as her master of arms, but increasingly hovered between them, inviting him to cross. That new awareness of her crashed into him and he wanted to pull her closer and kiss away her worries.

He instantly released her gown and stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, unsure now what he was apologizing for.

“It’s nothing,” she said faintly. She deliberately pulled her dressing gown closed over it again and pressed a self-conscious hand to her flushed cheek. “I’ll worry about it in the morning.”

For all their nights spent together alone, the fact that they were currently alone in his bedroom suddenly struck him. He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. “You should head back to bed. C-can you sleep?” 

“Can you?” she countered, the concern coming back into her eyes.

Could he? He wasn’t sure. He had not expected the nightmares to return, but then, how could they not with Hermann re-entering his life? “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

Concern creased her brow and he could tell that she was holding back asking more questions about the dream. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat and slipping a hand up to the neck of her dressing gown to hold onto the lapels. “Perhaps . . . Perhaps I could read to you? You wouldn’t still happen to have that book?”

He gave a huff of laughter. “I think I actually might.” He turned up another lamp and rummaged in his pack, finally finding that Alliance courtly romance he had started to read to her in Hikmet. He had decided to take the book on a whim, just in case he needed it to lull her to sleep at some point. He held it up to her and she smiled in delight.

“All right, into bed, soldier.” She took the book from him and once he had clambered back into bed, she perched at the foot, leaning against the oaken post that rose from the corner and pulling up her knees up to her chest. “So where were we?” she muttered, flipping pages.

“Chapter 7?” he suggested.

“Chapter 7, chapter 7.” She squinted at the pages. “Are you sure? I don’t remember any of this.”

He chuckled and folded his uninjured arm behind his head. “You might have dozed off last time around chapter 6.”

“Well, we’ll just start there then.” She touched his foot where it lay under the covers near her. “Close your eyes.” Then she started to read to him, her aristocratic intonation conjuring a different sort of story for him, one where noble knights and ladies tiptoed along the lines of convention, acknowledging them but never crossing. It wasn’t long before he lost the thread of the story and fell asleep.

ooXXoo

They set out the next morning for San Mateus, De Sardet, Petrus and Kurt. As they traveled, Kurt reviewed his conversation with Fiona the night before. He was definitely relieved to be back on friendly ground with her. _Maybe too friendly_ , he thought with a rush of warmth, remembering with an embarrassing amount of detail the softness of her skin and the exact pale shade of yellow of her nightgown as it failed to cover what lay beneath.

How had he even noticed those things at the time? 

He felt even worse given the fact that he still wasn’t being completely open with her. He simply couldn’t bring himself to talk about his history with Hermann, or at least, the worst parts. Not yet. He needed first to see an end to the monster’s predations. Needed it with a yearning that was frightening in its intensity and bloodthirstiness. Burning was a grisly end for the bastard. But well-earned. The fact that De Sardet and the others were a party to it without knowing the whole story made him feel both honored at their trust and guilty at his subterfuge. 

When they made camp that night, for the first time, he was nervous about their sleeping arrangements and the fact that there was only the three of them. Then he reminded himself that one was a bishop, so almost like a father figure or chaperone, particularly in how Petrus treated Fiona like the daughter he frequently called her. That fact instantly made Kurt feel better.

Several hours later, however, Kurt was starting to resent Petrus’s role as the _de facto_ chaperone, as he waited for the bishop to go to sleep so he could have Fiona all to himself.

_All to himself?_ That thought startled him.

While he and Fiona had joked for years about her jealousy and hero worship, it still felt strange for him to feel those same things in himself. He didn’t think of himself as the jealous type, but then, he had never really had much that was his alone. And he wanted her to himself. Most definitely.

Hoping to move things along, he yawned widely and announced, “I’ll take first watch.”

“But you’re still recovering from that gunshot wound, my son,” said Petrus. “I can take first watch while you rest.” The bishop’s suggestion was reasonable, and Kurt _was_ still recovering, but he still wondered at an ulterior motive. There was something in the Bishop’s voice that always sounded like he was scheming, the old fox.

“No, I can do it,” Kurt insisted, but Petrus shook his head.

“No, no, you should rest. I still have a few more hours left in these old eyes. I’ll wake you once I can’t keep them open any longer.”

Kurt shot a questioning look at De Sardet, and she shrugged. “It makes sense, Kurt. We all want you to heal quickly. You’ll need your strength once we get to San Mateus.”

His next argument burned in his throat as he held it in. Clearly, she wasn’t also counting down the minutes, so he forced himself to give up his folly. “As you wish, Excellency.”

He trudged over to his pallet and started to yank off his boots with a few unnecessarily forceful tugs. But his dark mood lightened when a graceful hand touched his good shoulder. He looked up and Fiona smiled before kneeling beside him. “I want you to sleep,” she murmured. “But I’ll be here if you need me to read to you.” She bit her lip. “Did you bring it?” The book, he presumed.

“Of course,” he said.

“Good. But first, sleep. I need you better.”

There was no way he was going to disobey that order, not when the fact of her needing something from him made him light up inside. “Yes, ma’am.”

She touched his shoulder again in parting and then left him to settle down to sleep.

When Kurt next awoke, he immediately swore. It was morning and the old fox hadn’t woken him for the next watch. Instead, Fiona sat poking the remains of their fire with a stick to stir up the goals and she was humming softly to herself.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Why did nobody wake me last night?” he grumbled, knuckling sleep from his eye.

“Because you were tired.” 

“I should have shared in the watch. That is my job.”

“Not today.” She gave him a small, self-satisfied smile. “Today it was my turn to keep you safe.”

He prepared to mount several arguments against this, but she looked so smug and pleased with herself that he found he hadn’t the heart. Plus, the point was moot now anyhow. Still. He muttered a few choice responses under his breath as he packed up his bedroll.


	7. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt finally closes the door on the ghosts of his past and lets himself lean into De Sardet for support.

Kurt, De Sardet and Petrus finally arrived in San Mateus just as the full moon had risen above the massive city wall. They strategized briefly over a simple supper at the residence, aiming to talk to Aloysius in the morning about adding someone to the Ordo Luminis’s heretic list. Then they would need to track down Hermann to draw him into their trap, but luckily, Sieglinde had given them a contact in the Red Sun regiment who should be able to help them with that. 

Kurt climbed into his narrow, Teleme-style bed, with its hard mattress and tall bank of stiff pillows that propped his head up. His body was weary from traveling, but his mind buzzed with their plans in anticipation for the next day. He was so distracted by them that he almost didn’t hear the knock at his door shortly after he had retired. Before he could get up to open it, the door creaked open and Fiona leaned in through the opening. He sat up and his heart rate picked up.

“Before you fall asleep, I thought we should change your bandage.”

He frowned. She was taking this notion of turning the tables and safeguarding him a bit seriously. “I don’t think it’s necessary.” Internally, he cursed himself for giving her a reason to leave again.

“On the contrary, the surgeon told me that it should be changed today.” She stepped all the way into the room and he saw that she was holding a small glass jar. “He said we should apply this salve to keep down infection.”

“Come again?” As far as Kurt could remember, Fiona De Sardet had left him to his own devices with this wound, which was why it had been Vasco who had helped him clean and bandage it after the fight with Torsten. “When did you speak to a surgeon? And was this before or after you applied a tourniquet to my arm instead of a bandage?”

A guilty look crept across her face. “I spoke to Constantin’s surgeon when I was at the palace the other day.”

He supposed it was a sort of apology for her cruel manhandling the day of the coup. Especially since she apparently had spoken to the surgeon even before their reconciliation. But he couldn’t let her off the hook that easily. He gave her a stern look. “All right. But only if you promise not to make it worse or cut off my blood flow this time.”

She smiled and sniffed in faux pique. “If you insist.”

Some time later she had cleaned it, rather painfully despite her attempt to be gentle, applied the salve and was re-wrapping it in a clean white bandage. “For how repellent it appears, it does seem to be much improved. I can no longer see daylight through your arm.” She shuddered. “Something I never want to see again.” She finished and tied it off, stepping back from where he sat on the bed.

He flexed his right arm, feeling the bandage pull with the movement but remain in place. “It feels solid. Thank you.”

“Does it still hurt?”

Even though it only hurt now when someone jostled it, he wasn’t above garnering a little extra sympathy, so he said, “Yes.” He was rewarded with an adorable moue of concern and Fiona stepping closer to adjust the bandage again, her touch light and quick.

He watched her face while she fussed over him, close enough to touch, or to toe the line of convention that rose up again between them. Her full lips set in a determined line. The straight aristocratic sweep of her nose. The dark, alien birthmark on the left side of her jaw that had always flagged her as something different and special.

He found it fascinating, even more so now that he knew it held the key to her hidden ancestry. He boldly reached out to touch the mark with his fingertips, but she flinched back.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted.

She pressed her hand to the mark, covering it. Her expression had closed off.

“I’ve never known you to be self-conscious about it,” he said in a gentle voice, curious at her reaction.

“I’m not." She bit her lip and nevertheless kept her hand over it, obscuring it from his view.

He gazed at her a moment longer and she dropped her eyes. “It’s hideous,” she whispered so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

“It’s not.” He reached out and gently moved her hand away so he could see it again. The way it spidered over her skin was actually quite beautiful. Up close, he could see that the different veins each had slight shade differences, ranging from deep moss green to a grayish mahogany, perfectly complementing the warm brown of her skin. He released her hand and ran an exploratory fingertip over the mark, feeling the ridges of it caress his finger. He had always wondered if it would feel raised or smooth. “It’s lovely.” He let his hand drop.

Her hand crept up to touch the mark, although she didn’t completely cover it this time. “You don’t think it’s ugly?”

“How could I?”

She laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “I always have. Which is why I simply ignore it.”

He shook his head. “It sets you apart. Makes you unique.”

“Not always a good thing,” she muttered.

“I know the court can be cruel, but believe me, it’s better to stand out as your own person than to be one among a faceless legion.”

Humor lit her eyes. “Hardly faceless, Kurt.” Then she reached out and ran her own bold fingers down the right side of his face. “In fact, it’s quite an interesting face.” Her fingers skimmed over the nasty scar that twisted over the bridge of his nose and then up to the matching scar that split his right eyebrow, both the result of a youthful encounter with an enemy bayonet.

“If you say so, fair lady.” His voice surprised him, sounding deep and gravelly again. All he knew was that he didn’t want her stop, so he leaned into her touch. She studied him like he was the one who was special, and he craved the fiction. He craved her, if he finally were being honest with himself. His pulse started to pound in his ears.

Then he thought he heard real pounding. “De Sardet, my child, might I have a word?”

Kurt glared at the door, and he thought he saw Fiona do the same out of the corner of his eye. She pressed her palm to the side of his face and then stepped away.

“Coming!” she called, and then to Kurt she said, “Get some rest. Tomorrow we have a big day.” Then she obediently left his room and shut the door. Kurt could hear only indistinct murmuring from the conversation in the hallway until at one point De Sardet’s voice rose enough for him to make out, “I was just changing his bandage!”

Kurt would have laughed at the absurdity of Petrus acting like a genuine chaperone except that the clergyman was seriously interfering. Kurt ground his teeth and laid back down. But hours later, Fiona had not returned and eventually he drifted off to sleep.

ooXXoo

Kurt stood in the anonymous shadows that crowded the corners of San Mateus’s Place of Punishment, eyes riveted on the unlit bonfire waiting upon the raised dais in the distance, and the only thought left in his head was anticlimactic.

_It had been a big day._

Petrus had easily convinced Aloysius earlier that morning to burn Hermann once the major had been found. Kurt was disturbed at how readily the zealot had agreed, and Kurt recoiled at the notion of fueling the fanatic’s perverted pastime.

Then they had found Hermann’s hideout in the seedier part of the docks. Kurt remembered the search, but surprisingly little of the subsequent encounter with Hermann. Kurt would have expected that part to stand out in his memory, that he would remember ‘til his dying days the satisfying moment when Hermann realized that there was no escape and that his underlings would no longer protect him, or the look of desperation in the cornered major’s eyes. Kurt had hoped to stand over the man and relish his whimpers of powerlessness, echoing Kurt’s experience in the man’s presence too many times. But it had all happened so quickly that it was now a blur of anger and loss. For how monstrously Hermann had loomed in Kurt’s thoughts, the real Hermann had been vanquished quite easily.

They had locked the major in the Guard barracks’ prison to await the Ordo Luminis, but Kurt simply could not leave San Mateus without witnessing the true ending. Hermann’s capture was not remotely sufficient to slake his thirst for vengeance. It had only revealed Hermann’s weakness, which in turn revealed Kurt’s own in fearing the man for so many years.

Kurt had felt De Sardet’s gaze like a heavy weight all day, constantly watching him, but thankfully she had said little beyond following his lead. When he had suggested they delay their departure to the next day, just to make sure everything happened as it should, she agreed without discussion. If he stopped to think about it, her silent support, coupled with Petrus limiting his sly comments only to the most essential, would have been unusual. But he could not focus on them. Only on marking time until the sun went down that day and the bonfires would be lit.

As true darkness fell and the bright moon emerged above the city, they stood in the lee of a shuttered market stand, far beyond the crowd of onlookers that had gathered around the blackened dais that made up the rotten heart of the Place of Punishment. Aloysius finally emerged from the Ordo Luminis compound and a struggling and gagged Hermann was dragged out behind him by two burly acolytes.

The acolytes tied Hermann to the stake upon the dais while Aloysius planted himself before the crowd and started to sermonize about some invented sin committed by Hermann. But the words were just noise. The zealot knew nothing of Hermann’s true sins, and now that it was ending, Kurt hoped no one else ever would.

Kurt focused on the increasing desperation and fear on Hermann’s face as the bound man jerked and struggled against the ropes binding him to the stake. When one of the zealots finally set a torch to light the sticks and tinder stacked around the captive's feet, Kurt let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Hermann jerked frantically in increasing terror and alarm, and probably screamed around the gag in his mouth.

As the burning proceeded, Kurt could not look away, even though it was truly horrible and the smoke began to burn his eyes. He had to bear witness, for himself, for all the other recruits who had suffered at this monster’s hands, and especially for those who had not survived.

A tentative hand crept into his, as if uncertain of its reception. He grasped it almost convulsively, holding her hand tightly like a lifeline, and she responded by knitting her fingers through his and locking their hands together.

They stood that way for he knew not how long. Hours, maybe. He never looked away, not when Hermann had finally stopped struggling, or when he gave a final blood curdling scream as the gag had burned away. At some point, Petrus wordlessly had gripped Kurt’s good shoulder and then returned to the residence. Kurt’s eyes were dry and scratchy by the end, when there remained nothing unburnt upon the raised dais and the crowd had trickled away.

He wasn’t sure when Fiona had leaned into him, but her shoulder pressed against his above their joined hands. He almost felt like she was holding him up at this point and if she let go, he would collapse into nothing.

He released a shuddering sigh and turned to her at last. “It’s done.”

She nodded silently. When he said nothing else, she asked softly, “What would you like to do now?”

“Sleep soundly.”

She nodded again. “Then let’s go home.”

They walked back to the residence, hand in hand, without talking. Kurt was empty and had no thoughts left to share. She did not relinquish his hand until they had reached his room. She helped him remove his armor and climb into bed, all without words. When he settled back, he caught her eye, wondering what to say or how to thank her, but she touched a finger to his lips. “Shhh.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You can rest now.”

She lowered the lamps and turned to go, but he shot out his hand to grab hers. “Stay.” It was somewhere in between a request and a command. Without comment or hesitation, she kicked off her boots, shrugged out of her coat, and climbed onto the other side of the bed, on top of the covers.

She turned on her side to face him and finger combed a hand through the hair at his temple. “Sleep.”

With a deep sigh, he finally did.

ooXXoo

Kurt woke with an unfamiliar feeling of lassitude. Despite all his body’s lingering aches and pains, he felt deeply rested and peaceful, like he was ready to face a new day. He blinked up at the ceiling and at the bright play of early morning sunlight that had snuck in around the edges of the curtain. He froze, however, when he felt a small movement against his chest.

Looking down, he saw an elegant brown hand latched onto the blanket over his heart and as he watched, it twitched a little, readjusting its grip on him. Turning his head to the left, he saw that the hand was attached to the sleeping form of Fiona, who lay curled up on her right side facing him. She grimaced in her sleep and tossed her head, seeming to dream. She was still fully clothed and had covered herself with the extra blanket that formerly had graced the foot of his bed. Her left arm was outstretched toward him and even in sleep, kept a firm grip upon him. He wondered if she had held onto him all night long, and the thought made him smile.

Being careful not to wake her, he shifted so he could face her. In contrast to the lightness he felt, her brow was furrowed in sleep as if whatever she was dreaming concerned her. She stirred slightly and her hand closed on him, almost tugging him closer. As he watched, her eyelids rolled as she viewed some dreamscape and she flinched from some unseen danger. He considered waking her when suddenly she startled awake with a gasp, her eyes flying open and wildly rolling around the room before settling upon him with a relieved exhale and she relaxed back against the high ridge of pillow under her head. Almost as an afterthought, she released her hold on him and retracted her arm.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning.” She smothered a yawn.

“Bad dream?”

She frowned, eyes becoming distant. “I think so? All I remember is a vague feeling of dread. Like some looming danger.” She paused as if just remembering something. “And betrayal.”

“Remembering the coup?”

She knit her brows. “No." She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Possibly. Anyway, it’s gone now. How are you?”

“Surprisingly well. In contrast to you, I seem to have slept like a babe.”

She leaned up on an elbow, looking around. “What time do you think it is? The house still sounds quiet.”

“Early, I believe.”

She sighed. “I probably should slink back to my room before Petrus finds out I was in here.” She grinned. “I don’t think he would approve.”

“I think the old fox can mind his own business,” Kurt groused.

Her grin widened. “Something that will never happen.”

Kurt grunted, acknowledging the truth in her words.

She sat up and pressed a hand to her hair, which had remained in its tight braid around her temples while she slept. Stray curls and wisps of hair that had escaped the braid stood out like a halo around her head. “I must look like a haystack.”

“You look beautiful,” he said without thinking. He always thought so.

“Flatterer,” she chided, but a pleased smile played upon her lips. She leaned back down on her elbow, turning serious again. “How are you really? Are you all right?”

He sat up, shifting so his back was propped up on the high pillow, and leaned against the wall. “Yes, actually. Better than ever. I had not considered what it would feel like to know that Hermann is no longer lurking out in the world.” Even after all these years, it made a difference. “You cannot even imagine how much I hate that piece of filth!”

“Kurt.” She hesitated mid-question and he braced himself. “What happened exactly with Hermann?”

He thought about deflecting yet again but being on the other side of his vendetta made it a little easier to talk about it. He sighed. “I was just a kid then, but I was sent to an elite camp. Although, one must say that I was gifted for my age.” He glanced at her once, but the open curiosity and sympathy there was too much, so he refocused on his hands where they lay in his lap. “This is when Captain Hermann took charge of me.” He felt a snarl curl his lip.

“We were beaten almost every day, we hardly slept, and he humiliated us at every opportunity. The same treatment as Reiner, Wilhelm and the others. Except . . .”

He stopped, mind flashing back to a million indignities. He swallowed. “Except Hermann occasionally came to visit us at night . . .” he said in a low voice, saying aloud something he had denied in his mind for years. He cleared his throat once, and then again as it thickened. “But it’s something I’d rather forget. This bastard went up in flames, and all my memories along with him.”

He fell silent and after a time, a hand entered his line of sight and slipped around his hand, squeezing it. Slowly, he looked up at her, uncertain what he would see in her expression now that she knew. He wasn’t sure he could take her pity.

She had straightened from her recline and sat facing him. Tears stood in her eyes, but they were angry, empathetic tears. “Good riddance,” she said in a low, fierce voice that had made stronger men quail. “The fire was too good for him.”

He nodded slowly. He took her right hand between both of his, cupping it for a moment like something precious before lacing the fingers of his hand together with hers. She shifted so that she was also leaning back against the wall beside him, leaving her right hand where it was, joined to his left.

He didn’t know how long they sat that way. Eventually, he had started to draw idle shapes on the back of her hand with his thumb, simply enjoying the soft feel of her skin against his rough calluses. He might have sat that way all day. 

Finally, she cleared her throat. “Now that you have taken care of Major Hermann,” she started hesitantly. She no longer sounded angry, but instead, somehow nervous. “Have you begun to think about the future?”

He thought about her question. He honestly had not thought about it until she asked. But now that she had, it opened up possibilities. “Yes,” he said simply. “For the first time, I feel free to do so.”

The hand that he held closed more securely on his. “I hope I will be a part of it,” she said, her voice gentle but also timid.

He stopped the motion of his thumb on her hand, surprised. Why would she even ask? He would always be at her back.

Then, he turned to look at her and his heart stopped. That hopeful look had re-emerged in her eyes and he realized she meant something more. And for once, it didn’t scare him.

He furrowed his brow thoughtfully and looked down. “I must admit that I still find it difficult to believe that someone as gracious as you may have found an interest in someone like me.” He looked up again and smiled at her. “But nothing would make me happier.”

She released a shaky breath and an answering smile grew across her face. The effect was breathtaking. She was incandescent, lighting up from the inside and simultaneously drawing him in. “Me, too,” she breathed.

He lifted his free right hand to touch her face in wonder, trailing his fingers down her cheek and then over the distinctive swirls of her mark. This time she didn’t pull away but lifted her chin as if to give him better access. She shivered and he started to lean in toward her, his heart racing, when they heard a door out in the hallway open and footsteps pass right outside the door.

They both froze.

Then Petrus began to speak, the words only partially distinct. He seemed to be talking to one of the servants. “And please tell me when Lady De Sardet rises.”

De Sardet immediately jumped to her feet with a panicked look. She silently mouthed to him, _Oh no!_ He couldn’t understand why the opinion of the old man mattered so much to her. She tiptoed toward the door on silent feet and pressed her ear to the door, listening.

“I think he’s gone,” she breathed after a minute. “Now is my chance!” She winked at him and slipped out, shutting the door softly behind her.

Kurt swore and thumped his head back against the wall in frustration. The bishop was a menace! At every turn now, the man was encroaching on Kurt’s time with Fiona. They just needed to get back to New Serene where they could dump their relentless chaperone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting! RL got hectic.


	8. Caution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt receives a warning from Petrus as they return to their problems in New Serene.

The group packed quickly and got on the road early. Kurt rode closely beside Fiona, simply enjoying being near her and watching her smile occasionally when their eyes met. He wasn’t sure if it was the closure he felt from Hermann’s demise, or the way she had smiled at him that morning, but the world had a brighter, more colorful shine to it as they rode.

When they broke at midday to water the horses, she coaxed him into a short walk along the pebble strewn bank of the stream. As they walked, she captured his hand again, this time in full view of Petrus.

The sardonic look Petrus shot them was annoying, but at least the clergyman didn’t lecture them or overtly disapprove. Or even seem surprised, come to think of it. Kurt wasn’t sure what Fiona would do if Petrus did disapprove, although he had a pretty good notion of what he himself would do, and that idea also cheered him.

Luckily, they didn’t have much farther to go.

Setting up camp that night, however, was a particular torture. Every move that Kurt now made, he felt Petrus’s eye on him, watching and judging. He next expected the bishop to be measuring the distance of Kurt’s sleeping pallet from Fiona’s. Which, to Kurt’s thinking, was a little too distant.

At one point, Fiona left the circle of fire light to attend to her own business and Petrus meaningfully cleared his throat. “A word, my son?”

Kurt sighed in resignation and settled heavily on the other side of the fire from where the bishop sat tending the flames. “What is it, old fox?”

“I see you growing closer with our dear Lady De Sardet.”

“And your point?” Kurt asked, jutting out his jaw belligerently.

“Only a plea,” Petrus said, raising his hand as if to stave off Kurt’s complaints. “Any fool can see the connection between you. That has been apparent since we first met in San Mateus. But I ask you to have a care with her youth.”

“She knows what she’s doing,” Kurt growled, starting to get offended at the bishop’s patronizing opinion of Fiona’s decision-making.

“Without a doubt.” Petrus focused on stirring the fire for a moment. “But we all witnessed the brief flame of her attachment to our brave sea captain.”

“So?”

“So, a similarly brief attachment with you, after all these years, would undoubtedly be more painful for her.”

Kurt kept his first, angry response behind his teeth and mulled this over. It would be painful for her, and for him, if he ruined their fifteen-year friendship with an ill-intentioned affair. Ultimately, that was why he had deflected the warming of her regard for him in the weeks since they had come to Teer Fradee. Was one false move worth destroying their bond of trust? The answer had been an emphatic _no_. But his reasoning was far more complicated now.

She had become the air in his breath. The fire in his veins. The purpose in his life. That fact should be even more terrifying now, the hold she had upon him, body and soul. But instead, he wanted it all.

Kurt looked up and Petrus was watching him with eyes reddened by reflected firelight, almost like the glint of hellfire.

“Bishop, I would as soon cut off my right arm as hurt her.”

Petrus nodded once and went back to stirring the fire. “That is all I needed to hear, my son.”

Not long after, Fiona returned, oblivious to their weighty conversation as she joined in with preparations to eat, but the bishop’s words continued to occupy Kurt’s thoughts throughout dinner and as they conversed into the late hours. Initially, he had again been counting the minutes until the bishop left them alone, but now he realized that he needed to take it a bit more slowly. This wasn’t just a tumble in the dirt alongside the road for him, but the start of something more. He hoped.

Eventually, they started to prepare to retire, and as usual, Kurt volunteered for first watch. At one point, De Sardet brushed up beside him. “Do you want to spar tonight?” she whispered, with a furtive glance at Petrus. Her eyes sparkled with wicked intent and Kurt’s mind spent an indulgent moment conjuring all the things he could accomplish during such a bout.

He hesitated, and then said, “Actually, I-I wanted to talk to you.”

She furrowed her brow. “I’m listening.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her a little further from the fire and out of earshot of the bishop.

She waited for him to speak, but he found he was not quite sure how to broach the subject. Finally, she said, “Kurt, what’s going on?”

He sighed. “And now it seems the proud warrior cannot find the right words. Such a fool!” He dropped his head and swore under his breath. This was so much harder than he had expected. He simply wasn’t a man of words.

But then her fingers locked together with his and she smiled, if a little nervously. “Go on.”

“I-I know I was your master of arms for a long time, you were young then. But now, you have become a beautiful and fascinating young lady. And . . .” He paused, swallowing. And? He sighed. He just had to spit out. “Would you like to spend some time with me one night, away from the others, alone?”

Her smile grew until she glowed again. “But, you know we always do that,” she said, amusement in her voice. “It’s my favorite time of day.”

He cleared his throat and then took both her hands. “I mean, not accidentally, and not as a remedy for the darkness or the loneliness. But, intentionally.” He wasn’t sure if that made sense.

“Kurt, there is nothing accidental about this.” She squeezed his hands. “But yes, absolutely. Why don’t you meet me in my room when we get back to New Serene, after everyone else goes to sleep?”

His heart soared. “I’ll be there, and . . . I can’t wait.”

She released his hands and started to return to the fire, but as she passed him, she whispered in his ear. “I guess no sparring tonight then. You should get your rest. You’re going to need it.”

Every nerve in his body burst into flame at her suggestion, but before he could embarrass them both, she had moved out of reach.

ooXXoo

The next day was one of the longest in Kurt’s memory. The road back to New Serene felt lengthier than usual, and they were plagued by delays. They encountered some bandits outside Wenshaveye and although they were easily defeated, the skirmish wasted precious time. Then De Sardet’s horse threw a shoe in the middle of nowhere, which resulted in more lost time as they had to shift her horse’s burdens to the other two and slow their pace further until the animal could be re-shod.

Of course, the up-side was that De Sardet switched to riding doubled up with Kurt. Given their attentive chaperone, Kurt only allowed himself to loop an arm around her waist. But she would sometimes lean back against his chest and rest her head against his good shoulder to murmur some insight or joke, allowing a facsimile of privacy and an excuse to hold her close. In some ways, he could ride like that forever. In other ways, it was maddening as the sway of her hips where they sat wedged against his was a constant reminder of their assignation that night, which felt further and further away with each delay.

Eventually, they found a homestead that agreed to board De Sardet’s horse until they could send someone to fetch it. This allowed them to make somewhat better time, but they still had to stop more often to accommodate the doubled load on Kurt’s mount.

The delays added up and so when night fell, they still had quite a distance left to travel. The loss of one horse was a vulnerability that made Kurt nervous, so he was loathe to stay out in the open for another night. Luckily, De Sardet and Petrus agreed, and so they pressed on, if even more slowly to avoid any unseen obstacles on the darkened roads.

Teer Fradee’s bright, starry sky wheeled overhead, marking the passage of time. When they finally caught sight of the walls of New Serene in the distance, it was approaching midnight. 

“We’re almost there,” murmured De Sardet just beneath his ear. She had been leaning on him almost continually for the past hour. She yawned.

“Yes, not long now,” he agreed, rubbing her arm against the rising chill in the air.

She yawned again, so widely he thought he heard her jaw crack. “Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so tired.”

“I know.”

“I think I actually need to sleep tonight.”

“Yes, you should. We’ll be there soon.”

“I’m sorry,” she said plaintively. “I don’t think I can meet you.”

“Don’t apologize.” He dropped a kiss on top of her hair. “We have all the time in the world.”

“Are you sure?” She tilted her head back on his shoulder to look at him, her lips suddenly hovering a breath away from his. He simply couldn’t resist.

He dropped another kiss, this time softly upon her upturned mouth. It was just a chaste press of the lips, but he caught her off guard and she froze for a second. She quickly recovered, though, and surprised him by leaning in and moving her lips on his to deepen the kiss. His blood started to sing and he tightened his arm, holding her closer.

A discreet cough behind them reminded him about Petrus. At this point, Kurt didn’t care. He grinned at her and she smiled back, a flash of white in the darkness.

She giggled. “Well, that woke me up.”

“Mmm, likewise.” He leaned down and nuzzled the top of her head, dropping another kiss on her temple.

“I think I’ve changed my mind about sleep,” she said.

“There’s no hurry, fair lady.”

“Easy for you to say,” she growled.

He laughed softly. “Hardly.” Despite his weariness, he was certain he would not be able to sleep at all now.

“I’ve been waiting for that kiss for fifteen years,” she said.

“Now, that I don’t believe,” he scoffed. She had only been about ten when they had met.

“Believe it. You have no idea the romance that that handsome master of arms brought to this lonely young girl’s life.”

“Stuff and nonsense. The girl I remember resented me for forcing her to learn the sword. She resented being forced to do anything.”

“Well, some things never change,” she said drily. 

“Indeed,” he said, shifting uneasily.

She caught the change in his tone. “What?”

“Do . . . Do you worry that I’m so much older?”

She laughed. “Of course not. Do you worry that I’m so much younger?”

He thought about that and decided to be honest. “Yes, sometimes.”

She straightened and furrowed her brow, glancing over to catch his eye. “Why?”

“You’re . . . young and new. You have the world before you. You get to view it with optimism. Not get weighed down by my cynical experiences.”

She shook her head, and her smile grew as she did so. “You have no idea, do you?”

“No?” he said with an owlish blink, uncertain what she meant.

She sighed and settled against him again. “Kurt, I get to be optimistic because of you. Because you’ve always taken the weight of the world off my shoulders so I could focus on new challenges. I don’t have one without the other. I _won’t_ have one without the other.”

She stretched up and pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his jaw. “So stop saying such foolish things.”

“Yes, Excellency,” he said sheepishly.

When they finally arrived, New Serene was deathly quiet as they plodded through the darkened streets with only the distant toll of a dockside bell to greet them. A sleepy stablehand did not even bother with a greeting as he took charge of their horses. Fiona practically tiptoed into the residence, which was similarly quiet. A yawning servant stumbled into the foyer, but she shooed him back to bed.

“Good night, children,” Petrus said, and then proceeded down the hall to his room without a backward glance, as if he were officially done watching over them.

Kurt turned to Fiona and wrapped a hand around the nape of her neck, drawing her closer. “You’re asleep on your feet, Green Blood. You should get upstairs.”

“But-”

“No. The last thing I plan to do is rush things after all this time.”

“But-”, she tried to protest again, blinking sleepily.

“You’re worth waiting for, my sweet excellency,” he said, and then pulled her in and slanted his mouth across hers. She immediately came alive and wrapped her arms around his neck, locking him to her. The kiss was slow at first, as they learned how they fit together and then became more thorough as she parted her lips and invited him in. When they finally pulled apart, they were both flushed and breathing heavily.

Before he could change his mind, he started moving backwards toward his room. “Until tomorrow then.”

She took a half-step forward, following, but then nodded. “Until tomorrow, Kurt. Sleep well.”

ooXXoo

At breakfast the next morning, Petrus filled in their other companions on the outcome of their trip to San Mateus, thankfully relieving Kurt of that duty. In turn, Vasco, Aphra and Siora informed them that much had happened in their absence. Apparently, Sieglinde had had her hands full with ferreting out the remaining conspirators and re-establishing order within her ranks. As a result, however, the criminal underbelly of New Serene was taking advantage of their disorganization, and reports of theft, smuggling and other crimes were increasing.

“I should go report in with Sieglinde,” Kurt said. “Then I can learn more about what’s happening in the city.”

Fiona nodded. “Constantin may need to hear about this as well. So, I can come with you, if you like?” She had attempted to sound casual in her suggestion, but it was unlikely to fool anyone around the table, especially when she gave Kurt a lingering glance.

“I would like that.” He couldn’t stop the broad smile that accompanied his reply.

“Anything else I should know?” Fiona asked, trying to pull her attention away from Kurt, and luckily failing.

“Well . . .” Aphra started, sharing a loaded look with Siora, “Constantin is not doing well.”

De Sardet’s attention quickly sharpened and her head snapped toward Aphra. “What do you mean?”

“His sickness causes him great pain,” Siora said. “Aphra and I had planned to offer our help to his healers today.”

“Do you think you can help?” Fiona asked hopefully.

The other women shared another look. “I don’t know,” Aphra said bluntly. “Alliance research has been more focused on curing the Malichor, but some of our methods might help ease his suffering.”

“I will do what I can,” Siora said. “But this sickness is strong.”

“Thank you both for offering to help,” De Sardet said. She looked around the table. “Why don’t we all meet at the palace at mid-day and we can check in with Constantin after I go to the barracks.”

Upon entering the barracks a couple of hours later, Kurt was relieved to see order had been restored, at least upon the surface. Then Manfred stopped them, and Kurt learned that it was indeed just a facade. Shipments were going missing. There were whispers of people going missing. The silver coin gang had again reared its head. He headed upstairs to see Sieglinde in dread of what else he might hear.

Kurt and De Sardet waited a few minutes until a corporal admitted them to Sieglinde’s office. She looked tired, but composed, as always.

“Hello, commander,” Fiona said.

“Lady De Sardet,” Sieglinde said, nodding, and then with a note of relief, she added, “And Kurt! I’ve been wondering how you fared.”

“Well, Sieglinde. Quite well, actually.”

“I see. I haven’t heard any troubling reports out of San Mateus, so at least you have been discreet. Were you also successful?”

“We were.” Kurt planted his feet, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “Hermann is officially on his way to hell where he belongs.”

Sieglinde gave him a long, searching look, the kind which used to make Kurt squirm. “And is this where it ends?”

He searched his heart, being mindful to look for the soul-deep pain he normally experienced when thinking about his past. It was still there, but it now felt more like the remembered pain of an old, healed wound, not one that still gaped open. “It is, Sieglinde. I’ll honor my promise.”

“Good.” The commander sat forward in her chair, clasping her hands, and had already moved onto the next thing. It was something Kurt had always admired in her but never had been able to emulate, the way she could compartmentalize and not linger on the past. “Then, how may I be of service?”

Kurt shared a look with Fiona who, with a brief nod, gave him tacit approval to describe their concerns. “We wanted to check in on the lingering effects of Torsten’s betrayal. We understand that you’ve had some extra work keeping order.”

Sieglinde sighed. “Indeed. Every low life across the island knows we’re undermanned now, which will be the case for some time until we can grow our ranks to full capacity again.”

They discussed Sieglinde’s organizational changes to redistribute their remaining manpower and how the Congregation could help, but it all underscored the fact that order would be difficult to maintain in the meantime.

As Kurt and Fiona prepared to leave for the palace, Sieglinde gave each of them a measuring look in turn and then asked Kurt pointedly, “And you’re definitely still in the employ of the Congregation?” She turned toward Fiona. “No hard feelings over the attempted coup?”

Fiona flushed under Sieglinde’s steely gaze but lifted her chin to face the commander head on. “Without Kurt, I wouldn’t be standing here. I’ll always be grateful for his loyalty.” Sieglinde continued to study her, seeming to weigh this response, and Fiona bravely maintained eye contact for a full beat before finally glancing away and blushing. “Kurt is the best of the Guard. I won’t ever let him go.”

Sieglinde grunted. “See that you don’t.” Then she nodded and went back to the paperwork on her desk, a clear dismissal of them both.

ooXXoo

When they finally entered the palace, they were surprised to find that the governor was still taking audiences in the great hall, despite the advancement of his disease. Kurt was shocked at the decline he saw in Constantin’s appearance over such a short time. The dark veins of the Malichor had advanced further and now clearly pained him.

“My fair cousin!” Constantin called, his usual joviality threaded by pain. “What brings you to see me today?”

“Constantin, how are you feeling?” De Sardet asked in an even voice, although she paled to behold him.

“Horrible,” he said with a pained smile. “But I’m making these crows quite happy that they have someone to play doctor with.” He then doubled over with a racking cough. “But I’m glad you’re here. I must ask you something.”

“Of course, Constantin. Anything.”

Constantin nodded distantly at her claim. “I do suffer, my fair cousin. I do suffer horribly, and alas we have yet to discover neither cure nor remedy.”

De Sardet bravely set her jaw, but Kurt could see she was stricken again by guilt. “I’m sorry. I fully intend to continue my research. We have a number of leads, but with all that’s been happening . . .”

“Yes, yes. I know you will. Yet I’m afraid that before the sickness claims me, the pain will have driven me mad.”

De Sardet seemed stunned and, for one of the few times in her life, was at a loss for what to say.

Siora tentatively spoke up. “I know of a healer with powers that are legendary amongst the clans.”

Petrus and Aphra began to talk over her, suggesting preeminent healers among their own people, and Siora fell silent again.

Vasco cleared his throat. “I’m nothing more than a sailor. I don’t have much to offer when it comes to healing. As it would seem Theleme are prey for the Malichor just like the Bridge Alliance, perhaps it would be best to ask for aid from those not suffering from the plague.”

“The sailor’s right,” Kurt added, nodding at Vasco. “The holy men and the sages had their chance on the continent, and we all know how that went.” Both he and Vasco then looked at Siora, who smiled in gratitude.

“Good point,” said De Sardet. “Siora, can you help us find this healer?”

“Of course. Catasach is very powerful.”

“Wonderful,” Constantin said. His tone was stilted, like his concentration was turning back inward to focus on combating his affliction. “Please. Hurry back.”

“While my skills may be meager, your highness,” Aphra said, throwing a reproachful glance at Vasco, “I would be pleased to offer my assistance to your healers in the meantime.”

“I would, as well,” said Siora, nodding at Aphra.

“That would be splendid,” Constantin said, smiling in an attempt at his usual panache. “Misery loves company and all that, my fair ladies.”

Fiona tried to talk with him more about other, less urgent matters, but it was too difficult for Constantin to attend to much of the conversation. Finally, she took her leave, and Kurt and her companions followed her out to the landing on the stairs.

“We will stay for now and see if we can help,” Aphra said with a look at Siora.

Siora nodded. “But I will come with you tomorrow to find Catasach. He is truly what we need.”

“Thank you,” said Fiona. She took each of their hands, squeezing. “Thank you both.”

“If we’re to leave again to find this native healer tomorrow, then perhaps we should also attend to another loose end,” suggested Petrus. “Namely, retrieving your horse that we abandoned at that homestead.”

“Oh right. I had forgotten about that,” Fiona said, frowning. “It would need to be shod before it can ride back.”

“If you like,” Petrus continued, somehow adopting that tone that suggested he was up to something, “Vasco and I could go bring it back for you.”

Vasco looked startled by this suggestion. “Retrieving . . . a horse?”

“It won’t take us long,” Petrus replied smoothly. “Then De Sardet will be freed up to take care of any other business before we leave.”

“All right,” Vasco agreed cautiously.

“I can also come,” Kurt offered. “I’ve shoed a horse or two in my day.”

“No, no, my son. We are more than capable of handling it. We’ll bring along a farrier and can be back before we need to leave tomorrow. You simply keep our dear legate safe.”

“That would be very helpful,” said Fiona said to Petrus. “Thank you.”

Kurt surveyed the bishop suspiciously for an ulterior motive to his generosity but could find nothing.


	9. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and De Sardet realize they are finally, unexpectedly, left alone at the residence and take advantage of that fact. (The story turns M at this point)

Once back at the residence, Kurt helped Petrus and Vasco make preparations to retrieve Fiona’s horse. Given the short notice, Kurt called in a favor with one of the horsemasters at the Guard to accompany them. It was late afternoon by the time they finally departed, leaving the residence unusually calm.

Kurt wandered upstairs to find Fiona in her office pouring over a map of the island and muttering to herself as she scratched out notes on a sheaf of paper. She glanced up as he entered. “According to Siora, the healer lives near Wenshaveye. At least it’s not far.”

“That will help.” He came closer and leaned a hip against the desk, crossing his arms.

She drummed her fingers on the desktop in a pattern, one after the other, over and over. “It has to. We need time so we can keep searching for a cure.” More drumming, then she laid her hand flat. “Kurt, he’s so much worse.”

“I know.” He lowered his brows.

“It has taken him so quickly, he surely must have contracted it here. Which means, the Malichor is everywhere. We can’t escape it, even on Teer Fradee.”

“We’ll find something that will help,” Kurt assured her. “Don’t give up hope. There are still mysteries to be delved here.”

“Perhaps. It just feels like . . .”

“Like?” he prompted when she stopped.

She sighed. “It feels like my dreams. A looming menace that I can’t escape. Words or ideas I can’t understand. But if I did . . .! Well, if I did, I think I could unlock it all. It takes on a whole new dimension now that we know I’m truly _on ol menawi_ and bonded to this island somehow, too.”

“Maybe Aphra’s right to want to learn more about the bond,” he suggested. The scientist had been rather pushy about her research agenda, which Fiona had resisted because it felt disrespectful to the islanders.

“Perhaps. But if it helps Constantin? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.” Now that she had a plan, the hopeless slump had left her shoulders.

“Well, Petrus and Vasco are away, so now we wait for morning.”

Fiona leaned back in her chair. “Is that why everything is so quiet?” They had so many people underfoot at every moment that the residence was never this still, except perhaps in the middle of the night.

Kurt caught his breath and re-examined the bishop’s scheming. With Aphra and Siora also gone, he was alone with Fiona aside from the residence staff. Had the old fox truly intended to empty out the residence for them? Retrieval of the horse surely could have waited until their return from Wenshaveye. Couldn’t it?

Regardless of the bishop’s motives, Kurt wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Indeed,” he said, uncrossing his arms. “With Siora and Aphra still at the palace, it seems we are quite alone.” He tried to keep his voice level, but even he could hear the quiver of sudden anticipation.

She sat a little straighter. “Alone, you say?”

“Aye. Likely until later tonight. Perhaps even until morning.” He swallowed as his mouth went dry.

She shifted on her chair, leaning forward. “Whatever will we do with ourselves?” A challenge lit her eyes. “. . . all alone?”

Her throaty enunciation of those two words made his imagination explode with all the things he had been wanting to do, most of which were not remotely appropriate for this early in a relationship. He thought of his plans for taking it slowly and forgot why such caution seemed wise.

He straightened from his slouch against the desk and stalked around its corner until he loomed over her chair, forcing her to tilt her head back to look at him. He leaned down and without warning, spun her whole chair until she was facing him squarely. She gasped in surprise and her breath started to come more quickly. He wrapped his hand around the back of her slender neck and drew her into a searing kiss. She moaned softly and leaned up into it. 

With their lips locked, he then reached down and scooped her into his arms. He wrapped each of her long legs around his waist and turned toward the desk. But she tore her lips away and said, “Wait, wait, wait.”

Before he could ask why, she leaned down to the desk, stuffed a cork into the open ink well, and then shoved it into a drawer for safekeeping. Then she straightened and said, “Where were we?”

He started to smile, but then she had taken his face in her hands and had captured his lips with slow, biting kisses. He responded in kind for a moment before balancing her with one arm and sweeping the contents of her desk off onto the floor. He then deposited her on the mahogany desktop and moved in between her knees.

“’sblood, you take my breath away,” he murmured, dropping kisses across her cheekbone and then down along her jaw to where the mark lay. She tensed briefly but then relaxed into it, letting her eyes fall shut and lifting her chin. Her hands settled blindly in his doublet, tugging him close and searching by touch for a way to remove it.

He moved from her jaw down her throat and tried to remove her interfering neckcloth with shaking hands that stumbled in their haste. He returned to her lips and they each became a bit more frantic in their attempts to disassemble the other’s many layers of clothing and armor. When she finally succeeded in releasing one of his pauldrons, it slipped from her grip and clattered loudly across the parquet floor. They both paused at the sound and then heard a small gasp behind them. 

They spun toward the still open door to see a white-haired maid press a hand to her mouth. “Dinner is served, my lady,” she blurted before fleeing from the room.

She and Kurt stared at each other in frustration and then grudgingly a smile pulled at his lips and finally they both started to laugh.

“And now I recall why I was going to meet you in your room,” he said gruffly.

She giggled. “Yes, I suppose we’re not quite alone after all. I hope we didn’t upset her.”

He sighed. “And why I wanted to go more slowly.”

“Slow? Kurt, it’s been fifteen years. If we go much slower, nothing will ever happen.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided smile and he rubbed the back of his neck. “You deserve . . .” He struggled for the words and finally settled on the understated, “more.”

“I deserve you,” she said, grabbing the front of his doublet and pulling him in for fast, urgent kiss. She then pushed him away and hopped off the desk. “Let’s eat before it gets cold. But this isn’t finished.”

“Yes, Excellency.” He obediently followed her down the stairs to the dining room, re-buckling the strap on his pauldron as he went.

Dinner was a lesson in fortitude. He was alone with Fiona, who sat at the head of the table with him situated intimately at her left. All Kurt would have to do is reach out to hold her hand or caress her skin. But instead, they were surrounded by the servants coming and going unpredictably from the room. It was maddening. Because of this, they spoke very little except through their eyes, and the tension was palpable. Even the staff seemed to sense it and Kurt could feel their oppressive scrutiny every time they entered, as if watching for the couple’s breaking point.

Fiona murmured some innocuous observation from time to time to break the silence, but he had little to add and could only watch her with appreciation. The way she swirled her glass of wine before she drank, her eyes dancing above the rim of crystal. The way she nervously wet her lower lip before dropping yet another _non sequitur_ in an attempt at small talk to appease the staff. The way she hungrily watched him during each bite of her apple tart until his pulse was racing again.

At last, she set her fork aside. “My room. Ten minutes,” was all she said before running out.

Although dinner could not have ended sooner for Kurt, he was nevertheless caught off guard by her sudden retreat.

He felt only a moment’s pause, however. The residence would never be completely empty, so if he wanted to preserve her dignity—or what was left after their earlier _faux pas_ —and spare their companions, this was their best chance.

He strode to his room, trying not to rush in an obvious manner now that every member of De Sardet’s household must be fully aware of what was afoot. He removed his armor and settled each piece on the stand with shaking fingers until he was down to his stained arming jacket. He shrugged out of that and pulled on a simple, loose white linen shirt. He had to force himself to slow down when he botched the order of the buttons and had to re-button it, twice. A glance in the small glass hanging on the wall showed him that he couldn’t do much with his appearance, far too many blemishes and scars for that, but he washed up and combed his hair smooth. When there wasn’t anything else that could help, he took a deep breath and headed back upstairs with butterflies in his stomach.

He stopped before her door, the floorboards creaking beneath him, and took a bracing breath before raising his hand to knock. But before he touched the door, it swung open. Fiona held fast to the outer limb of the door in such a way that she was half-hiding behind it. Kurt assumed that she must be feeling the same nerves he was. He brushed past her into the room and she shut the door softly behind him.

She had also removed her more formal coat, arms, and neckcloth, and stood in a slim white shirt and snug maroon waistcoat. Without the long coat, he could see how her long legs molded to her buff-colored breeches and how her narrow waist nipped in before curving to her breast. He had seen her in many states of undress over the years--they had lived in close proximity for too long to avoid it--but this was somehow different. More tantalizing even than her bare toes peeking out from beneath her dressing gown, the fully revealed shape of her curves now made him wonder that he had ever allowed her to leave the house dressed this way. She genuinely took his breath away.

She stepped away from the door and drew nearer, her brows drawn in concern. “Kurt?”

His courage dried up all at once. What was he doing here? Perhaps this was all a mistake. “Your Excellency?” He cleared his throat and looked down. “Do you still want me to be with you?”

He waited for her response, and there was a countable pause. Finally, he looked up and she was frowning at him again. “Of course, you idiot. Come here.”

He blinked in surprise at her gruff command, but like any good soldier, complied. When they stood toe to toe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer still. His arms fastened around her waist and it felt so natural, one would think they had always embraced so. He started to relax.

“The real question,” she said softly, “is whether _you_ still want _me_ to be with you. For how I’ve joked and pined over the years, I’ve worked hard to make sure that you’ve never felt any sort of . . . obligation to me. To-to like me in that way. I think that’s the real reason we never became friends. It’s frankly unconscionable for me to allow you to confound your loyalties as I’ve done.” She swallowed and her face fell. “No matter how grateful I am for how it turned out, I was the one who put you in that difficult position with Torsten, because I’ve drawn you too close.”

He opened his mouth to contradict her, shaking his head, flabbergasted that she could think this way. “And, I try to regret it,” she pressed on before he could speak. “But I can’t.” Her eyes flicked back up to his. “Because I need you, Kurt. In every way.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, just at the corner of his mouth, and then stepped back out of arm’s reach. “So I put the question to you,” she said, swallowing. “Do you still want me to be with you?”

“Always.” He darted forward and, framing her face with his hands, kissed her so thoroughly that no possible doubt of his feelings for her could stand. When he felt all the tension finally leave her, he lifted his head. “My sweet excellency,” he murmured against her lips. 

“Kurt,” she whispered longingly, and then wrapped her arms around his neck again and pulled him back in. Her kisses were whisper light and exploratory, like she was memorizing the feel of him, and he let her take the lead, as he sometimes struggled to do.

Part of him was still dumbfounded by her concerns. The only person responsible for Kurt’s torn loyalties was Kurt, because he, perhaps foolishly, had fallen in love with his charge. It was as simple as that. But the fact that she worried about him simply made him love her more. It was what made her worth everything.

Without breaking the kiss, she slowly maneuvered him backwards toward her enormous fourposter bed and without any warning, pushed him so he fell backwards onto it. He did not have time to be stunned as she immediately joined him, crawling up his body until she sat atop him, her mouth curled into a smug smile.

She took his hands and gently held them for a moment over his head, while she lowered her mouth to his for more teasing kisses that forced him to lean upwards in order to fully connect. He gave her a moment to feel that she had the upper hand.

But then, that was finally enough of that.

With a practiced twist that he had used so many times in their grappling matches that she should be embarrassed at herself, he flipped her over, holding her arms down and settling his hips into the cradle of hers. She gasped, not just from the suddenness, but no doubt from the feel of the length of him against her. 

“Pathetic. Are you trying to embarrass me, Green Blood?” he taunted, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip, the corner of her jaw. “I know I taught you better than that.” He grinned down at her.

“Any good diplomat knows when it’s best to bow to a superior force,” she said in a throaty voice that made her sound out of breath. “And I am a very good diplomat.” Then she rolled her hips against his in a way that drew an involuntary moan from him. 

“Indeed, you are, my sweet excellency.” His voice trailed off to a whisper as he kissed her again, drowning in the sweetness of her lips, the totality of her surrender, and the anticipation of her next maneuver. She squirmed delectably in a way that made them both gulp for breath.

He released her arms and then started on the buttons of her waistcoat and shirt, following with open mouthed kisses in the wake of his clumsy fingers, but soon ran into yet another layer, some sort of corset or something under her shirt. She reached over to tug his shirt up over his head. He paused to help her, rearing up onto his knees to pull it off over his head. But then the shirt caught on something midway, leaving it halfway off and still entangling his arms and obscuring his eyes. The surface of the bed dipped, and she was kneeling before him, apparently holding the blasted shirt in place with a hand on either of his arms.

Unable to see fully, he stilled, wondering where she was going with this but allowing himself to remain temporarily immobilized. Nothing happened for a moment and anticipation mounted. The shirt lifted a bit until his mouth was free and he felt the light brush of soft lips against his own, which then trailed down his neck, hot and teasing. “Turnabout is fair play, my captain,” she breathed just below his ear, still holding his arms captive in the shirt. He shuddered and played along.

A finger pressed against his lips and then traced a long, tingling line down his neck and then over his collarbone before dipping lower. The single fingertip became five as her hand spread out against his chest and then began a slow perusal by touch that set him on fire. The fact that he still couldn’t see through the shirt seemed to heighten his other senses and the whole world was reduced to the heat of her fingers igniting his skin and sending shivers through him. Then her mouth was on his again and he had had enough of being passive.

He yanked the shirt up and off his head, surprising another gasp from her, and then wrapped his freed arms around her slim form, pulling her close.

She met him with a smile. “Still all right with this?” she asked, looking into his eyes.

He nodded. “And you?”

“Oh yes.”

“Good. Then, I think I’ll have to enlist your aid,” he said. She looked at him inquiringly, but then understood as he unbuttoned the remaining buttons on her shirt and tugged at the complicated lacing of the next layer underneath.

She chuckled and quicker than he would have expected, she had unlaced and shucked the whole contraption off. She dropped it off the side of the bed and then boldly stared him down, as if daring him to look. And look he did, because she was perfection.

His hand reached out to touch her almost of its own volition, trembling slightly. He ghosted his fingers slowly, reverently, over her warm russet skin, marveling at the softness in this otherwise formidable woman. His Green Blood. Now _he_ felt like the green blood, learning this new side to her and hoping he was enough.

While his fingers continued their exploration, he leaned in to kiss her, this time slowly and deliberately, parting her lips and using his tongue to elicit new sounds from her.

But she did not seem to have the patience for slow and deliberate, as her hands began to fumble blindly at his belt. He pulled back to read her expression and what he saw there made him abandon patience as well. Raw want coupled with something fundamentally deeper, something that he could not name, that clawed at him in its need to connect.

Restraint gone, his hands flew, making quick work of removing his boots and the rest of his clothing, while she did the same. Then they crashed back together with a tangle of limbs and a clicking of teeth.

He was frantic now with the need to touch her and claim as much as she was willing to share. In turn, she seemed almost to be marking her territory with small biting kisses, many of which were likely to leave a mark. She had slipped past all of his barriers, leaving him raw and bare before her, but he embraced the closeness, trusting her implicitly.

Finally, he rolled her onto her back and moved in close, pressing his forehead to hers and causing her to still. They were both panting raggedly and their breath co-mingled. Eyes locked in silent communion, he pushed in closer, deeper, until they were profoundly connected. He watched with satisfaction as her eyes fluttered backward and she whispered his name, sounding awestruck.

Like a primal compulsion, they began to move together, slow and deliberate once more, then more urgently, especially as her voice returned and she started to call his name, driving him faster. He noticed, for an unfortunate second, the sound of the fourposter scraping and creaking on the floorboards, but then blocked out everything but her, locking their fingers together just as she cried out and he began to see stars.

A seeming eternity later, he collapsed bonelessly against her neck, shifting some of his weight to the side. He delighted at the sound of her trying to catch her breath just above his ear. When he could get his muscles to respond again, he lifted a hand and traced her clavicle, following the shallow dip back and then forth and smiling at how slick her skin had become from their exertions.

She took a deep breath that was almost back to normal. “Mmmm, still all right?” she murmured.

“No.”

She started and then rolled up to look at his face with some alarm. “What? Why?”

He gave her a lazy smile. “I’m far better than all right.”

She sagged with relief and pushed his shoulder. “You gave me a scare. Don’t do that.”

Instead of apologizing, he only smiled more broadly. Nothing could dim the beatific languor that had overtaken him. He pressed a kiss to her neck and then settled back down against her.

She sighed and rested her head against the top of his. “Do you think we should move?”

“No.”

“What if the others come back?”

“No.”

He felt her smile. “You’re very articulate right now,” she said with amusement.

“Yes.”

She laughed and he smiled as well. Finally, he reared up over her, brushing her hair back from her face, which had started to come free of its braid in fetchingly wild curls. “I just need a moment to commit this as my happiest memory.”

Her eyes softened at his admission. She reached up to cup his face and he pressed a kiss into the center of her palm. Then her smile turned mischievous. “Oh, I might be able to do better than that. Let’s give it another try.”

“Demanding woman,” he complained without heat.

“Mmm, practice makes perfect, or so my master of arms used to say,” she countered.

“What a clever gent.”

“I always thought so.”

He slowly shook his head, still marveling at this turn of events. “Look at the pair of us, Green Blood.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Who would’ve thought.”

“I would’ve,” she growled. “It’s about damn time, that’s what I thought.”

He pressed another kiss to her hand, moving down to the next knuckle, and then the next. “All in good time,” he said slowly in between kisses. When he reached the end at her little finger, she slipped her hand away to caress his face, running her thumb over his lower lip.

“Then stay,” she said, focused on his mouth.

“Stay?”

“Stay with me, tonight. Whether or not they come back.”

He looked at her closely. “Are you sure, Fiona?”

She smiled at his use of her name. “Without a doubt.” She brushed his lower lip again. “How else am I going to sleep? I need the sound of your voice.”

He swooped down to kiss her deeply in answer, leaving them both panting for breath when he relented. A sly grin pulled at his mouth. “And who says you’re going to sleep tonight?” 

She beamed and drew him to her.

They did end up sleeping a little before dawn, but only because she talked him into reading to her, since he could never say no. He threw on some clothes and snuck downstairs to his room to retrieve the dog-eared Alliance romance. As he eased his door shut and started back toward the stairs, he noted the sound of snoring from at least one of the rooms across the hall, signaling that Petrus and Vasco must have returned. When Kurt slipped back into Fiona’s bed, he settled her into the crook of one arm and held the book with his other. Even after their long night of making love, his body stirred to have her snuggled up against him, skin to skin, which made it difficult for him to fully concentrate on the story. It also did not help that the story was starting to get a little racy as the book’s heroes finally stepped over those stolid lines of convention as well. But, as usual, it didn’t take long before Fiona was out, head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He stowed the book and gathered her close, finally dropping off to sleep himself.

ooXXoo

They woke the next morning to the sound of the household coming alive. Fiona’s head was nestled on his chest just over his heart, and her hair, which stood out in all directions from its braids, tickled his chin. He stayed still, unwilling to wake her, but she also began to shift, rolling until she lay fully atop him. She pillowed her chin on her hands above his heart, her limpid eyes twinkling at him.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning.” He ran a hand over her hair, calming a few of the wilder curls.

Her eyes looked up, like she was trying to track his hand. “Am I a haystack again?”

“Yes. But a well-earned haystack.”

She grimaced. “I should have taken out the braids I suppose.”

“Let me help,” he said, teasing his fingers through her hair to loosen the ties that held the braids together. It was such a complex configuration that after a while he was simply combing his fingers through the mass to enjoy the texture of it against his palm.

She gave her head an exploratory pat, deftly loosening parts he had missed with one hand. “Oh well. I think you’ll just have to get used to the haystack.”

He pulled her into a kiss. “With pleasure.”

“Do you think Petrus and Vasco are back?” she asked.

“I believe so. I think I heard them last night.”

“I wonder if they heard us.”

Kurt shrugged. “Let them.” Perhaps hypocritically, he was unfazed at the notion that he had subjected the others to a symphony of creaking floorboards. He was too contented.

“You’re not worried?”

“No. Are you?” He was curious if she would now be embarrassed in the light of day, particularly around Petrus.

“No. I’m ready to make an announcement in the town square.” She grinned.

“At least that would liven it up a bit.”

She sighed. “I think we should get ready to move out. We have a lot on our agenda for today.”

“Indeed.” They each rolled out of her bed on opposite sides and started to dress. They were quiet and somehow the tenor of the room shifted as they slipped back into their usual roles. By the time they stood facing each other before the still-closed door, some of his trepidation had returned. She was deftly braiding her hair into a severe plait and tucking it away again, and her responsibilities had clearly settled back upon her shoulders.

He was the first to break the unexpected silence. “I’m afraid to ask, but what happens now?” She tilted her head, seeming puzzled by his question. So, he continued in a rush. “You are everything I want, and everything I love. But what about you? Do you want me? I mean, in the future?”

Understanding dawned in her eyes and her face broke into a broad smile that dazzled him. “I cannot imagine life without you, Kurt.” She grabbed his shirt by the neck and pulled him into a lingering kiss. “I love you, too.”

“My sweet excellency,” he said with fervor and then lowered his head again.

When she could speak again, she said, “And if it would help reassure you, I will go make an announcement in the square.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” He knew he was grinning foolishly, but he could not stop.

She opened the door and he stepped over the threshold.

“So, I’ll meet you at breakfast in a few minutes?” she asked, leaning against the edge of the door and resting her cheek against it.

“Yes, I’ll go clean up first so we can leave soon if you like.” She nodded in response and he turned to go, but hesitated, turning back for one more quick kiss.

“Go!” she said after releasing him with a laugh.

“All right. All right,” he said, not really sounding remotely apologetic.

He rushed to his room and flew through his ablutions, his thoughts fully distracted by memories of the night they had spent. He was walking on air until he stepped foot into the dining room and four sets of eyes turned upon him. Aphra and Siora had apparently already returned from the palace, joining Petrus and Vasco to wait for them at the breakfast table. Kurt halted in his tracks and uneasily looked around at all the curiosity directed his way.

“Um, good morning,” he said to the room at large, his hand fidgeting at his side. “You’re all back.”

“Indeed,” Petrus said, somehow drawing out the word into several syllables and adding a dose of innuendo.

“The, um, horse was shod? No problems?”

“No, no problems, my son. Your farrier was quite talented.” Petrus paused for just a second before he asked, “No problems here?”

Aphra’s lips tightened like she was trying not to smile.

“No. Quiet as mice,” Kurt replied.

“Hmmm. Mice. Yes, that must have been what I heard last night,” Petrus mused, and Vasco coughed suddenly and looked away. Aphra’s lips were visibly trembling now. Only Siora looked at him with sympathy.

Fiona then walked in on this, looking around at the odd tension. “What’s going on?” she said, casually taking Kurt’s hand in hers. He clenched his fingers around hers for support.

“We’re just hoping you had a quiet night here. Alone,” said Petrus, his eyes dancing with suppressed mirth.

“Oh, we did,” she said, face lighting up and grinning wickedly with a loaded glance at Kurt. Finally, Aphra couldn’t handle it any longer and burst out laughing, joined by Vasco. Petrus only shook his head in a show of fatherly exasperation. Siora just smiled happily at them.

“Let’s eat,” Fiona said with another glance at Kurt. “We have much ahead of us.”

He smiled at her, his heart ready to burst. “That we do, Green Blood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is an epilogue, for some closure. Thanks for reading!


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months after the great battle of Teer Fradee and the untimely death of Governor Constantin, De Sardet has contrived to keep the government running. Kurt, entrusted with an important missive from the Prince, searches the palace for De Sardet, but begins to worry when she is nowhere to be found.

Kurt had searched every unfamiliar corner of the New Serene palace he could think of for Fiona. In the considerable time they had spent here in the months since Constantin’s untimely demise, he had learned most of her favorite places, but so far, she had not been in any of her usual haunts. He had started in the ostentatious guest bedroom she had taken over upon moving into the palace, but the maids had already tidied up any sign of normal human habitation in that gilded museum of a room. He still couldn’t think of it as his own bedroom for some reason, even though he slept there every night. Since he had left early to train with the palace soldiers, as he did most mornings, he realized he had not seen the lovely new governor--or, acting governor, she would be quick point out--all day.

Constantin’s death had left a major vacuum. With no governor, no designated heir apparent, and no guidance from the too-distant continent, the remains of the Congregation of Merchants’ government on Teer Fradee had floundered at first. But this problem, like so many of the island’s problems, had been handed to Fiona to solve. Constantin’s advisors had unanimously selected her to serve as acting governor until Prince D’Orsay could send an official replacement.

Fiona’s approach was to govern with open cards and to consult candidly and often with her council. She had enlisted Constantin’s remaining advisors but also her own companions, ensuring she had voices reflecting the alliances she had forged with all the major factions on the island. 

Petrus was still with them. They had learned that the Mother Cardinal was planning on installing him as a cardinal in his own right at long last, but until it became official, the Mother Cardinal wanted him to remain in Fiona’s inner circle while she stabilized the Congregation’s government.

Aphra had been a source of great wisdom on treating with the Bridge Alliance, whose scientific establishment was in upheaval since the revelation of Dr. Asili’s horrific experiments. Aphra was planning to leave soon to consult on a new ethics board they would establish, but in her heart, she was really counting the minutes until she could return to Dunncas’s clan and continue her study of the islander’s connection to the island god, _En on mil Frichtamen_.

For Siora’s heroism at the final battle at Dorhadgenedu, the _doneigada_ had been named _mal_ of her clan together with her sister. This gave her numerous reasons to continue to maintain her connection with Acting Governor De Sardet and foster their diplomatic relations, so Siora remained a frequent visitor to the palace at New Serene and an official member of Fiona’s council.

Vasco had also been rewarded for his bravery with a new appointment as commander of his own fleet. He continued to advise Fiona as he could before his new responsibilities drew him back to sea.

Despite the fact that her advisors were usually underfoot somewhere in the crowded palace, Kurt had yet to run into a single one of them in his search for Fiona. He was beginning to lose his patience as the message entrusted to him by Sir de Courcillion burned a hole in his breast pocket. A clock somewhere chimed, making him glance out the windows at the darkening sky. It was late and she was nowhere to be found.

A discreet cough behind him made him turn. One of the upstairs chambermaids stood with a small silver platter, upon which sat a folded, official-looking note. “Sir,” she said, bobbing once and presenting the note.

He took it with a frown of suspicion. “Is this from the governor?” he questioned.

“Sir,” was all she said with another bob, and then she withdrew.

Still frowning, he unfolded the note. He immediately recognized Fiona’s hand in the bold, swirling letters.

_Kurt, meet me at the residence. —Fiona_

The mysterious note, far from reassuring him, set off another chain of worries. It was definitely written in her hand, but who knew for what purpose she had written it. He decided he could never be too careful and so made sure to arm himself before setting out.

As he reached the ground floor and approached the palace grand entrance, two Blue-Silver regiment guards immediately saluted. “At ease, soldiers.”

“Sir,” they each responded.

Kurt turned to one of them. “Has Lady De Sardet departed the palace through here?”

“Um, sir, yes, sir.” The soldier risked a sidelong glance at his partner.

“Eyes forward, soldier!” Kurt commanded. “When?”

The soldier straightened up. “Several hours ago, sir.”

“Was she alone?”

“No, sir.”

Kurt ground his teeth at the unenlightening answer, certain that the world was conspiring to vex him today. “Then who was with her?”

“Several of her advisors. Sir.”

“And no guards?” Kurt roared.

“She took, um, one or two?”

“And no one thought to inform me?”

“She said—” The soldier stopped and glanced again at his companion, who shrugged.

“Said what?” Kurt prompted, barely reining in his temper. Kurt shouldn’t take out his frustration on the soldier, but he had been searching for almost an hour. Plus, since when did the new governor leave the palace without her master of arms being aware? 

“She said not to tell you she’d gone out, sir.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes at this intelligence. Fiona wasn’t usually one to be cagey with her instructions. “As you were, soldier.”

“Yes, Major!”

Kurt slammed open the front door and stormed out. Several soldiers saluted as he passed, but he spared them not even a glance until an idea occurred to him. He stopped and pointed at five of them in turn, by name. “Fall in with me.”

“Yes, sir,” they all responded instantly, forming up behind him as he pounded down the steps leading away from the palace.

He was still getting used to his promotion to major, but it had its advantages. He still remained in his position with Fiona, but now also served as one of Sieglinde’s advisors. He had always relied on Sieglinde as a source of advice himself, and so he had been quite humbled to learn that she wanted him now to advise her.

The one complication was the fact that Fiona had been considering again the idea of the Congregation of Merchants forming its own fighting force. Or, at a minimum, an elite palace guard that would be beholden only to the governor, in order to avoid the conflicts of interest Kurt personally had experienced. It was a good idea. And of course, Fiona wanted him to lead it, which would mean leaving the Guard for good, a notion that made him uneasy. It also meant a more significant sort of promotion and a chance to build something new from the ground up, using his own principles and ideas. It was an attractive proposal, but in the end, Fiona thought the decision should be left to whoever was installed as the official governor, a transition they expected any day now.

Kurt followed the familiar path to the residence without conscious thought, although they had not spent much time there in the months since Constantin’s death. Fiona had spent virtually every minute trying to heal the damage and chaos sewn by Constantin’s madness. Nevertheless, the road forward had wrought many positive changes, not the least of which were the new alliances that still united the island factions, bringing a fragile peace to Teer Fradee for the first time in fifteen years. She therefore also spent a lot of time nurturing those alliances, leaving no time for much else. Luckily, Kurt’s official role meant he was never far from her side, otherwise, he would probably see Fiona very little.

He finally arrived at the residence, stopping before the door. Everything looked normal and quiet. He saw the faint flicker of light from both the upstairs and downstairs windows. He ordered two guards to man the front door and a third to station herself at the kitchen’s side entrance. To the remaining two soldiers, Kurt motioned to follow.

He strode inside on his guard, hand on his sword. He saw nothing unusual in the foyer, nor in what he could see of the sitting room beyond. Everything looked tidy, since the staff would have maintained it, if a bit abandoned. Even their usual chairs by the fire were back in their perfectly aligned positions that betrayed their lack of use in past months. Only one lamp was lit and there was no sign of movement. His nerves ratcheted up.

He eased forward into the sitting room and still no servants came out to greet him. He saw nothing else out of the ordinary, so moved on to the shadowed hall that led to the dining room. As the hall came to an end, a dark shape loomed in the next entry. Kurt drew his sword and rushed forward, hearing, “Major!”

Kurt pinned the figure against the wall, holding his two-hander only an inch from their throat. Kurt eased back so that the candlelight from the dining room shone over his shoulder to reveal the person’s identity.

It was Taylor, the guard Kurt had assigned as Fiona’s bodyguard when Kurt wasn’t available. Taylor had gone white as a sheet, and her sword dangled uselessly from one hand. “Sir! You scared me half to death!”

“Kurt!” Fiona appeared from behind Taylor, moving toward them from her seat at the dimly-lit dining table, wide-eyed in surprise and half-blending in with the shadows herself. She eyed his sword. “What are you doing?”

She was wearing a court dress of dark blue damask, the one that happened to be his favorite since it reminded him of that blue dressing gown. She still preferred her breeches most days unless she would be holding audience in the great hall, which was an increasingly common occurrence. What was most different, however, was her hair, which she had uncharacteristically left unbraided, its loose curls falling down one shoulder where she had tied it with a yellow ribbon.

Kurt scanned the room for other dangers a moment longer before sheathing his sword. “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing here?”

She took in the guards flanking him who still stood on their guard. “I was waiting for you.” She gave a tiny shrug and motioned at the dining table. Now that he really looked, Kurt realized that there were two places set within the intimate circle of candlelight. “I was starting to think I would have to send someone to fetch you.”

Her note finally made sense. It was neither a ruse nor a sign of danger. And he was an idiot.

“Out!” he ordered in a flat voice, turning to the soldiers at his side. “Out! Go form a perimeter around the residence. No one in or out. Do not disturb us unless your lives or our lives depend upon it. Move out.”

All three started to leave, including Taylor. “Not you, Taylor,” Kurt said. “You return to the palace, inform Sir De Courcillion that the Governor and I are attending to unfinished business at the De Sardet residence and we will return tomorrow morning. We are only to be interrupted in the event of an emergency. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!” Taylor made a point of keeping her expression neutral, but her eyes flicked once to Fiona before filing out.

Once they were alone, Fiona pursed her lips into a pout. “So much for my surprise.”

“Oh, I’m very surprised,” Kurt said, finally letting himself laugh at the situation. “Green Blood, did it not occur to you that the Governor disappearing from the palace under mysterious circumstances would be cause for alarm?”

 _“Acting_ Governor,” she muttered. “And, no, I must say it did not. Why can’t anyone follow orders around here? You were supposed to meet me here, not ambush me.”

“Our orders are to keep the governor safe. It’s dangerous for her to leave the palace without the knowledge of her master of arms. And unescorted. Something I thought she knew.”

She sighed. This was already an old argument at this point. “I am not the governor. I’m the acting governor, which means that I am just me and not a valuable target, because I’m easily replaceable.” He ground his teeth at this statement, but before he could interrupt, she continued, “And, I had an escort. Taylor was with me, along with Siora and Aphra.”

“And where are they now?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

She smiled impishly. “They left after helping me get set up.”

Now that they were alone, he could start to relax. Somewhat. He gathered her in his arms, which seemed the simplest way to reassure himself that she was safe. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Lady De Sardet.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well,” she said in a sweet, reasonable voice, “I’m exactly where my note told you I would be, Major Kurt.”

That reminded him.

“I have a message for you,” he said, becoming serious.

“I have one for you, too.” A smile played on her lips.

“Mine is from the Prince.”

She paled, her humor bleeding away in an instant, and she stepped back. “Finally,” she said, in a sad attempt at a rallying tone that evinced no genuine enthusiasm whatsoever.

No matter how often they had discussed it, and no matter how obvious it was to Kurt, Fiona would not admit to him that she liked being governor. It was clear that she enjoyed working on problems that mattered and having the far-reaching influence to implement her solutions and help people. Besides the fact that she was good at it. He could only conclude that she was trying not to get attached to the role while they waited for the next appointee from the Prince.

“Well, what does it say?” she asked. “Did he send someone?”

“I haven’t read it.” He pulled it from his breast pocket and handed it to her. “It arrived by courier ship this morning.”

She moved closer to the candle on the dining table before breaking the seal. She scanned it quickly, paused, lowering her brows, and then read it again, slowly.

“What does it say?” he asked.

She still did not respond right away, something having clearly shaken her. “The Prince received my letter.” She wet her lower lip nervously. “He seems to accept that Constantin succumbed to . . . to the Malichor. He agrees with our suggestion to avoid infection, and so he wants us to send only Constantin’s bones back to the continent for interment in the Orsay family crypt.”

“Which is good, since that’s all we have left,” Kurt replied in relief. They had been worried at what the Prince would think of Constantin’s transformation, so they used the Malichor as an excuse to burn his corpse after the battle. “Anything about the succession?” Kurt pressed.

Fiona cleared her throat, her expression troubled. Seeing her apparent disappointment, he stepped closer, taking her hand in support, which at least was something he could do here in private. When he stood at her side in the great hall, he frequently had to hold himself back.

“The Prince goes on to applaud the work we’ve done here,” she continued, “and says how grateful he is for the relationships we’ve built, particularly with the islanders. He welcomes my idea of sending an islander delegation from High King Dunncas.”

Kurt waited patiently for her to tell him about the Prince’s choice of new governor in her own time, stroking her hand with his thumb.

She let out a deep breath. “He wants me to continue as governor. Officially.” She looked up at Kurt like she had just given him bad news, something he could not understand. Perhaps he had not heard her correctly?

“He wants you to be governor?”

She nodded slowly but continued to eye Kurt with trepidation.

“Why aren’t you happy about this, Fiona?” he asked softly. “I thought you enjoyed being governor.”

“I . . . I do enjoy it,” she admitted in a small voice.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m not sure that you enjoy it.”

He gaped at her, mouth dropping open in shock. “What? It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“It has got everything to do with you. I can’t do it without you.”

He smiled in amusement. “And what makes you think you’ll be without me?”

Her hand tightened into a deathgrip on his hand, and his pulse sped up with sudden concern. Was this the end of all their dreams? What was happening here?

Her free hand closed around their joined hands as she faced him directly. “I know that my serving as acting governor has been a lot for you to deal with. You’re constantly worried about me. You don’t like sleeping at the palace.”

He darted an uneasy glance away. “It’s an adjustment. That’s all. I will follow you anywhere.”

“But I don’t want you just to follow. I want you at my side. Which is why . . .” She dropped his hand and paced over to the table. “This is all out of order,” she muttered to herself. She took a deep breath. “The reason I wanted you to find me here today is because, after the dinner that is now getting cold,” she said, turning back around, “I wanted to ask you to marry me.”

He felt frozen in place, unable to settle on a reaction as numerous different emotions fought for dominance. Elation. Confusion. Relief. Concern. Wonder. He blinked at her. “You want to marry me?”

Her brow wrinkled as she replied a tentative, “Yes?”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Is that a _yes_?” she asked in exasperation.

He drew close and reached out to her face, running his thumb gently over her cheekbone. “Of course, if that’s what you want. Married. Not married. Governor. Legate. I will take you any way I can, my sweet excellency. I thought you knew that?”

“But I know you don’t like being at court.”

He shifted his shoulders and knew he should be honest. “Being at court has always been the price for being at your side. It always will be. But I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“But being married to the governor? Probably complete with your own title and trappings. That’s not what you signed up for.”

He smiled. “Are you trying to talk me out of it now, Green Blood?”

“Well, no. I initially had hoped to convince you about marriage without the governorship looming over our heads. I was not expecting that today.”

“You don’t need to convince me to marry you.” He looked over at the table and its abandoned settings. “You do need to convince me that you’ll stop being so reckless with your safety. One coup is enough.”

She wrung her hands. “I wanted to go back to when it was just us. If just for an evening. You haven’t sparred with me or read to me o-or stayed up and told me stories in ages.” She paced away and then back. “I know our life at the palace has been an uncomfortable fit for you the past few months.”

“No, I’ve definitely gotten used to living in palaces and always having warm baths,” he said gamely, but she saw through him and did not return his smile.

“I don’t think you have. I know you don’t feel like our room there is yours as well.”

He fidgeted avoiding her eye. “No. It’s fine.”

“Kurt, you practically ask me for permission to enter each night. I want you to know that I _see_ that. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“I will admit, I’ve not done much about it either.” He idly scratched at his stubbled jaw. “But, I will embrace this role if it means you’ll get to do what you are meant to do.”

She took his hand again and her eyes seemed to plead with him. “But, are you sure you would want to?”

He took her face in his hands and looked her in the eye so she could see his sincerity. “I want nothing more than to be with you. Nothing. Of that I am certain. And no title. No foolishly gilded bedroom. No pompous windbags or slandering dainties are going to change that. I’ve reached for those stars high overhead and caught the brightest, most beautiful one. And I won’t let her go. Not for anything in the world.”

Tears glimmered in her eyes, which tore at his heart. He would do anything to save her from tears, and here he was causing them. He pressed his lips to hers, slowly, gently, trying to convince her in his own way that they were meant to be together. He felt wetness drip over his own face as her tears began to fall, but she also melded against him, her hands sliding up his forearms to circle his wrists. Finally, they broke the kiss, but remained in their close embrace. She pressed her forehead to his. 

“All right,” she said, sniffing damply. “Then I will stop trying to talk you out of marrying me.”

“Yes, I would appreciate that,” he said, attempting a gruff tone even while his mouth curved up.

Her breath caught on a laugh. “But we need to talk about how to make you feel more at home at the palace.”

“Hmm, I don’t rightly know what to do about that, but . . . do the maids need to remove every sign that we live there?”

Fiona straightened. “I don’t know. But I’m sure we can do something. I mean, I am the governor after all. And Constantin’s room was always a disaster. Maybe they’re overcompensating?”

“Perhaps.” Kurt chuckled. It was a start. They should have talked about this ages ago instead of him bearing it all with a stiff upper lip. He wanted to start a life with her. A home. Did it matter if that home happened to be a palace?

“Should we eat?” she said. She was wringing her hands again, so he took one and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Love to.” 

They moved toward the table, but she had apparently decided he needed to be more comfortable immediately and started to tug at the straps on his pauldrons. He humored her, and, in a few minutes, she had him stripped down to just his doublet. She would have gone further, but he did not think his layers underneath were really dinner appropriate.

As they dug into their food, which was still delicious for being room temperature, she started to tell him stories about her day. In one, she had mediated a land dispute between two merchants who had developed a considerable rivalry. Apparently, the dispute involved not a piece of land each wanted, but instead a stretch of swamp each wanted to push onto the other. It was a story she told with relish that had him laughing.

She had given the residence staff the night off, so other than the guards he now had surrounding the residence, they were finally completely alone. When dessert came, Fiona therefore was the one serving him a simple chocolate mousse in a fancy crystal bowl. She set it in front of him and before she had even resumed her seat, he had taken a bite.

He groaned in pleasure as the spicy Teer Fradee chocolate hit his tongue. It was one of Aphra’s more successful culinary experiments combining continental cuisine with island flavors, and one for which Kurt had developed a decided taste. Fiona smirked in triumph.

“This might be my absolute favorite food,” he said, already scraping his spoon against the bottom of crystal bowl.

“I know. Aphra helped me get it just right.” She watched him for a moment dig out the very last bite from his dish and then she handed him hers with a doting smile.

He hesitated for only a moment before digging into hers. “You are a queen among women, Fiona,” he mumbled between bites.

“Funny you should say that. Actually, I was thinking about your, um, title. Or is that rank?”

He narrowed his eyes curiously as he continued to spoon out his last bites. “I’m listening.”

“I really do think that the Congregation needs its own palace guard. We can hire the rest, but the coup showed us that we need our own force at least to protect the governor. I have a particularly vested interest in the topic now.” She flashed him a grin.

“As do I,” he said with a nod.

“You know I was going to let the new governor make the decision, but now that it is mine to make, I think we should proceed. Meaning, I think you should proceed, forming and leading it. _Commander_. If you want it.”

She leaned back in her chair, toying with her fork as she awaited his reaction to her offer.

“Commander?”

She shrugged one elegant shoulder. “You would lead our forces, so it’s seems appropriate. What title would you like? Some of the honor guards on the continent have a captain appointed at their head. That title would make me a little nostalgic, but it also seems like a step backward since you’re now a major. What makes the most sense to you? You’re the expert here.”

The title itself was of less interest to him than whether he even wanted to take this step and leave the Guard. His entire life, literally since birth, had been spent as a Coin Guard. But he did not know how to explain that to her without risking hurting her feelings.

When he did not answer right away, she continued, “If it helps, I’ve spoken with Sieglinde about the idea.” Kurt looked up in surprise, to which she shrugged again. “I wanted her advice about the idea in general if we ever pursued it. And I wanted to know her thoughts on potentially losing you.”

“And?” he prompted, sounding more eager than he liked. He had avoided thinking about the idea much himself, because the topic made him feel terribly disloyal. To whom, though, he wasn’t quite sure. He didn’t want Fiona to think he wasn’t interested, because he was. But, he had avoided discussing it with Sieglinde, because he nevertheless felt guilty that he was considering it at all. He owed the Guard everything.

“She has always wanted you to find your own path, Kurt. You know that. But she told me to tell you that the Guard would be fine without you. And that you would be fine without the Guard. That either way, she supports your decision and would still want your advice.” Fiona continued to study him as he absorbed this message.

“That sounds like Sieglinde. She would never tell me directly what she thinks I should do.”

Fiona smiled slightly. “She’s a good mentor,” she said noncommittally.

He let out a bone-deep sigh and took Fiona’s hand on the table. “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful. I like the idea. Quite a bit. But it’s a big change.”

“I know. And it’s not about gratitude. It’s about what’s best for the governorship and our role on Teer Fradee. I truly believe this is the only path. The only question is whether you would like to lead this effort and make your own mark upon it. Which I would love, because I think you’re the best person for it, for many, many reasons. But, if you would prefer to stay with the Guard, I can work with that, too. Either way, you’re stuck as my husband. So don’t think you can get out of that.” She smiled and squeezed his hand.

“And I wouldn’t want to,” he assured her.

“Good answer,” she said drolly, before frowning more seriously. “Please tell me what you are really thinking. I can tell you’re trying not to disappoint me.”

“I think . . . I think the palace guard is a good idea that is long overdue. I think it would make me sleep better at night knowing that you’re as safe as you can be. It’s also made me think about how I would recruit for it, and . . .” He stopped and grinned. “And how and where I would poach from the Guard.”

She shared his smile, but then resumed her neutral governor expression of polite interest. “For what it’s worth, Sieglinde even suggested sharing some resources and training and such at first to get us up and running. I thought that was quite generous of her.”

His smile dimmed as he thought of talking with Sieglinde. He realized he wanted this, but he didn’t want to hurt anyone with his choice. Nevertheless, his thoughts kept returning back to his plans for organizing the new regiment, what training would look like, and before he knew it, he had apparently made up his mind. It was a new adventure that was already exciting his imagination with possibilities.

“I . . . I want to do it.”

“Oh, good.” Her studied nonchalance was replaced by a relieved grin. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. _Commander_.”

“Commander,” he repeated, rolling the title around on his tongue. “It’ll take some getting used to.”

She laughed merrily. “I’m sure that’s nothing compared to what the Prince might saddle you with upon your marriage into the family.” She waggled her eyebrows once. “It could get quite interesting, _my lord_.”

He groaned, making her laugh more. She pushed away the two empty crystal dishes. “But enough about work. I didn’t actually invite you here to talk about palace guards.”

“You said you had a message for me,” he reminded. “Is there more to it than asking me to marry you?”

“No, that was it.” Her lips curved into a different sort of smile that commanded his attention. She rose from her chair and slowly rounded the corner of the table, closing the distance between them. “Well, that and the fact that the residence is very quiet right now.” She moved even closer, nudging one of his knees to open as she sidled between them. His hands closed automatically on her waist. “Quiet, except for us. And I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. For hours.”

Picking up on her suggestion, he surged to his feet, startling a gasp from her, and lifted her onto the dining table before him. He pushed in close so that she had to spread her own knees and her gown pooled between them. She grabbed onto his doublet to steady herself, but her eyes danced in anticipation.

“What will we do with ourselves?” he growled.

“Perhaps we could do a little sparring?” she said, sounding a bit breathless.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss lightly to the side of her neck. “Sparring takes quite a bit of room.” He dropped another teasing kiss beneath her ear.

“Yes, sparring might be a little hard with the limited space we have in the residence,” she murmured, casting his memory back to their first midnight meeting in the sitting room.

“True,” he said, trailing his lips along her neck to nibble at her collarbone.

“Perhaps . . .” She gulped. “Perhaps you could just talk to me a little more?”

“What would you like me to talk about?” he asked against her skin. He slipped a hand down to her ankle and slid it up her calf, underneath the petticoated layers of her dress. Her eyes widened and her breath caught. He followed the line of her silk stocking by touch alone up to her knee.

“T-tell me a story?”

His hand continued to forge a path up her stockinged leg, trailing first along the outside of her thigh and then slowly slipping inward, past the rolled edge of her stocking to trace along the bare skin of her inner thigh. She swallowed unsteadily and trembled beneath his touch.

He brushed his lips across hers with the barest touch. “I’m not much of a storyteller,” he murmured.

She gazed at him with those fathomless blue eyes, shining again with hope and love. “Then tell me something true.”

He stilled and raised both his hands to frame her beloved face. “Lady Fiona De Sardet, I love you. And I will stand by your side ‘til the end of our days.”

She smiled fiercely. “I’m going to hold you to that, commander. Now, please,” she said, clearing her throat in a pointed fashion, “continue your story?”

How could he say no to that?

_Fin_


End file.
